Legacy of Fire: Book One: Howl of the Carrion King
by Meloriel
Summary: In the desert nation of Katapesh, a courageous but naive young woman named Bree joins a caravan intent on reestablishing the abandoned village of Kelmarane. But a savage tribe of gnolls and their bestial allies hold the town in the name of their merciless master known as the Carrion King. Can Bree and her allies retake Kelmarane or will the quest claim their lives? (Pathfinder)
1. Prologue

Disclaimer and Copyright Information

What follows is a novelization of the Legacy of Fire Adventure Path published by Paizo for the Pathfinder RPG as it occurred for my players. Although the over arcing plot line is true to the published adventures this novel takes a lot of creative liberties in order to create a novel from a d20 campaign. Place names, religions, the world, and many characters are created by Paizo, but much of their reactions and personalities are of my own devising. Many of the side characters were created by me and the main 'heroes' by my players.

This fan fiction uses trademarks and/or copyrights owned by Paizo Publishing, LLC, which are used under Paizo's Community Use Policy. I am expressly prohibited from charging you to use or access this content. This fan fiction is not published, endorsed, or specifically approved by Paizo Publishing. For more information about Paizo's Community Use Policy, please visit paizo dot com /communityuse. For more information about Paizo Publishing and Paizo products, please visit paizo dot com.

* * *

Howl of the Carrion King

Prologue

Awakening

Xulthos stirred.

His mandibles clicked. His claws shuddered. His insectile wings flitted in agitation.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he opened his multi-faceted eyes.

He looked around his prison. His earthen tomb.

He shook off his torpor. Slid out from under his madness.

Something had changed.

Someone had come.

Had they brought the key to his prison? Was he to be set free?

Xulthos cast his senses out into the world above, searching for life. He found it quickly, a beating heart amidst the rubble of a ruined town. It wasn't human, whatever it was, but it was humanoid. Intelligent. Virtuous. It brimmed with good intentions, righteous zeal and something else... Something intangible.

Hope, perhaps? Regret? Loss?

Need.

Need and curiosity.

Xulthos twisted his insectile features into a cruel smile.

The creature did not possess the key to his prison, but a trait that Xulthos would find just as useful. It possessed the ability to _enter_ his prison.

Better yet, it _wanted_ to enter. It sought for something. No. It sought for _someone_ it believed to be buried within the tomb Xulthos inhabited.

Xulthos couldn't help it, he laughed.

The creature would enter his prison and come face to face with Xulthos himself. It would fight against him, of course, but Xulthos did not fear the creature's muscles or strength. Xulthos possessed both those things in abundance. And yet, neither of them were his true strengths. Xulthos would not defeat the creature with his claws, or his jaws. He would not break his body. He would not devour his organs.

Xulthos was a creature of deceit. Of manipulation. Of corruption. A master of the mind.

Xulthos would take over his soul.

The creature, righteous and powerful though it may be, would soon find itself nothing more than a puppet on a string.

Soft footsteps sounded upon the long abandoned earthen tunnels above Xulthos.

Xulthos' mandibles clacked with excitement.

His time was at hand.


	2. Chapter 1: All the Right Reasons

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter One

All the Right Reasons

Haleen Synger stood on a rocky crag in the burning desert heat. Her long, black hair danced in the wind, while her deep, brown eyes gazed with longing at the city below. Katapesh was neither a kind place, nor a forgiving one, but it was home.

She sighed. After fifteen years on the streets she had done it again. She almost couldn't believe it. All this time and she hadn't learned a thing.

The first time it had happened she was a child of seven years old. She had been in the back garden tending the pesh cacti when they came. Their helms and shields glittered in the midday sun and their blue robes fell around them like a waterfall. She had gasped at their beauty. She ran up the back steps, threw open the door and skipped to the front entryway.

They stood there, fully armored, with their glistening scimitars drawn. She stopped when she saw them, paralyzed. Her mother sat in the corner of the room, motionless, her bruised face turned to the sandstone floor. He father stood before them on his knees, gesturing wildly with wide, terrified eyes.

"No!" he was saying. "No!"

She hadn't understood what was happening at the time. She hadn't known her father was an illegal pesh dealer, or realized that he had willingly broken the most important law in Katapesh and interfered with legitimate trade. That knowledge came later. What she did know was that they had come to take her father away. Her father and their home.

"No!" she had screamed. She threw herself at the Zephyr Guard's polished bronze boots and pulled at his clothes. "Don't take Father away!"

The guard ignored her and reached for her father.

"Take me, instead!"

"Yes!" said her Father frantically. "Take her, instead!"

The Guards hesitated, but only for a moment. "Your crimes weigh more than your offer."

"I... I have another daughter! She is young and pretty! Take her, too!"

The Guards paused.

"Ghaniyah!" her Father called. "Come here!"

Haleen's elder sister, thirteen and at the cusp of womanhood, had come obediently at her Father's call.

"See? Take them!"

The Guards sheathed their swords. The leader nodded once and then spoke. "Let it be stated for the records that the Zephyr Guard accepts Aqil Saeed ibn Najjar's offer of his two daughters on behalf of the Pesh Guild of Katapesh. His right hand shall be taken as payment for his crimes on behalf of Pactbroker Hashim ibn Sayyid, and his branding as Guildless will occur directly afterwards, as ordered by the Pactmasters themselves. The Guildless shall not be tolerated."

Her Father had sighed then, in relief.

Her Mother neither moved nor spoke.

Two of the Zephyr Guards led Haleen and her sister out of the house and down the road to the Pesh Guild headquarters. Their Father's screams as his hand was severed could be heard the entire walk.

It took Haleen a few days to realize that the man they were brought to now owned her. That she and her sister were his to do with as he wished. His slaves. It was the brand they seared onto her forearm that really drove it home. 'Property of Tahsin Sumrah ibn Zayad al-Muhib,' it said, 'For Life.'

Haleen attempted escape at every opportunity and got away at least once a week. She always ran straight home. "Father! Mother!" she would call. "I'm back!"

Her parents would come running. Her Mother would embrace her, hug her and cry. Her Father would frown.

"Haleen," he would say as he called for the Guild Guards. "You used to be such a good daughter. So obedient. What has happened to you?" The Guards always arrived after a few minutes. It was just enough time for her to plead and cry with her parents. To tell them the torments she had suffered that week.

She hadn't known that the Guards let her escape. She hadn't known how much worse her sister had it or what happened when they were separated. Not until the day her sister died. That's when it all became clear to her. That's when she knew.

With Ghaniyah gone, Haleen would be next.

Haleen would never leave this place alive.

She escaped that day for the last time. With tears streaming down her face she had stormed into her parents home, a whirlwind of grief. Her Mother held her and sobbed. Her Father scolded her and called the Guard. Only this time, Haleen wasn't destined to return.

At the sight of the Guild Guards her Mother grabbed a kitchen knife and plunged it into the eyes of the first Guard.

"Run, my child!" she had cried. "Run!"

And Haleen did. She ran as far and as fast as she could. She ran until her feet bled and her lungs felt as if they would explode.

Her Mother was executed in the public square the next day. She died bravely, with her welt covered face held high in defiance. Haleen had watched from a nearby rooftop.

As young as she was, Haleen understood that her Mother's life had paid for her freedom. She vowed that day that she would not let her Mother's sacrifice go to waste. That she would never be held against her will again.

And now, fifteen years later, she had taken her Mother's sacrifice and thrown it away.

She had failed.

When she was twelve, Haleen had been living in a small room, no bigger than a shed, that she had purchased from a surly old dwarf named Ho-tep. It lay in the back alley behind his book shop, the Gilded Tome. He had helped her occasionally, throughout her time on the streets and even given her a job as a messenger when she needed money. He was her only friend.

Until she found _them_.

They were hiding behind a street vendor's stall, chained together at the ankles. The first, a ruddy skinned boy with thick black hair, was trying to pick the lock upon his chains with a chicken bone and an apple core, while the second, a half-orc child with reddish brown skin, tried his best to look inconspicuous. They were younger than her. No older than six. Old tears had left streaks down their dirty, bruised faces. The brands upon their bony arms proclaimed them slaves for life.

Haleen had heard the hurried footsteps of the Zephyr Guard approaching. She should have run. She should have saved herself.

But she didn't.

She saved them instead.

They stayed with her even after they had been freed and as the years passed she became their big sister and protector while they became her very heart and soul. Her beloved boys.

A week ago, when the elder of her boys, Santon - now a strapping young man of seventeen - burst into their one room home screaming that Chochy - her kind-hearted, monster of a half-orc - had gone missing, she vowed she would do whatever it took to find him and bring him home.

Unfortunately for Haleen, Chochy's life was legally forfeit to not one, but two Guild leaders and when she found him in their hands she knew not only what saving his life would entail, but that she would pay it without hesitation.

And so, for the second time in her life, Haleen Synger willingly offered her freedom in exchange for another's. She was right back where she had started. Nothing had changed.

Well, perhaps _one_ thing had changed. This time Haleen had a sword.

Her reverie was broken by an impatient huff. The guards behind her shuffled their feet. Haleen sighed. If she did not follow them now, of her own will, they would force her to. Her hands trembled and edged closed to the well-worn handle on her scimitar.

No. She couldn't draw steel on these men. It would mean the end for Chochy.

She couldn't fight back. She _wouldn't_. Chochy meant too much to her.

Haleen cast one final look at her home and then turned and walked away. It was the last she would ever see of Katapesh.

She had paid a hefty sum to have her original slave brand removed and now another had replaced it. It sat in the exact same place and stung with every breath of wind and brush of sand. Worse than the pain it caused was the burden. It weighed upon her much heavier than the original ever had. It's very existence mocked her Mother's memory.

'Property of Tahsin Sumrah ibn Zayad al-Muhib' it said. 'For life.'

Her Mother would be so disappointed.

* * *

Kaali hovered behind her daughter, watching her cast a final glance at their home city of Katapesh. A spectral tear rolled down her cheek.

Fifteen years ago Kaali had sacrificed her life to give Haleen a chance at freedom and, despite the odds, it had worked. Haleen evaded capture but Kaali, filled with regret at allowing her other daughter to die, could not rest. Her spirit lingered on, attached at its very core to Haleen's well-being. Over the years she had protected Haleen as much as she could given her undead existence. A stray noise to lead pursuers astray, an especially shadowy corner to hide in and, on very rare occasions, a ghostly manifestation were about all that Kaali could manage, but it proved to be enough.

Against this though, Kaali was helpless. There was nothing she could do.

Haleen had given up her hard won freedom in exchange for her adopted brother's, just as she had done for her Father's so many years before. It was what Kaali herself should have done when her precious girls had been offered up as barter for her no good husband.

As Kaali watched her daughter follow her captors across the endless sands, she felt her hold on this world loosening. She was fading. Letting go. There was nothing more she could do here, on this world, and so the other world was calling her. The Dawnflower's burning light would claim her today, as it should have fifteen years ago.

Another spectral tear rolled down her scarred face, and she smiled.

Haleen was exactly where she had started.

But this time she was there for all the right reasons.

Her Mother was so proud.


	3. Chapter 2: The City of Lies

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Two

The City of Lies

Katapesh is a bustling desert city nestled in a sandy valley on the coast of the Obari Ocean. Its sandstone walls stand open, but guarded, welcoming all to the teeming metropolis. Of course, it is not the people that Katapesh is welcoming, but their gold.

The city had passed through many hands over the years and been known by many names, but always it retained its mercantile importance. Even its laws were tailored to protect and promote trade. There were other cities to do business in, of course. Absalom, the city at the center of the world, was Katapesh's greatest competitor, but it was only here, in the winding, sandstone streets filled to bursting with markets and merchants, that anything could be bought or sold. Absolutely anything.

Here merchants wielded as much power as kings, words were as much a weapon as steel and even lives were a commodity to be bartered and sold. It was a city of shopkeepers, dealers and guilds where everyone had something to sell you, money to spend and a lie upon their lips.

It was here, that Santon Synger lived.

Santon was an attractive young man of seventeen with soft, unbroken bronze skin. He had big, brown, expressive eyes which gave him a rather boyish look. He wore his short, black, wavy hair loose and messy. He was muscled, but not overtly so. His hands were smooth and without callouses, his clothes were finely made and clean. He greeted friends and strangers alike with a hearty handshake and a smile. He was loud, boisterous and reckless. When he laughed, he laughed with abandon and when he smiled it brightened up a room. Santon was open, honest, and utterly without tact which, in a city as full of liars and cheats as Katapesh, was a refreshing change.

And that is exactly what Santon was selling. An image. An idea. A lie.

He used his age and boyish good looks to seem innocent. He used his smooth skin and clean attire to seem well-off and pampered. He used his wild hair and crooked smile to give off an air of easy indifference. He spoke as if he was thinking of nothing else. As if he was telling the truth.

His entire image was tailored so that the people he came across would take notice of him, take his measure, and dismiss him as an inexperienced, naive young man all in the same glance. So that they would underestimate him. This was both his greatest weapon and his lifeline. The ease with which he pulled it off was miraculous.

Santon thought of his charade as a shield. His greatest fear was that someone would manage to batter it down. That someone would look closer and recognize him for what he was. They would look into his boyish brown eyes and not see innocence, but cunning. They would feel his impossibly smooth skin and recognize not a pampered merchant's son, but the illusory magics that had erased his slavery brands and scars. He had assumed that discovery would be his downfall.

He was wrong.

He had found something much worse. It's name was loss and it hurt far more than being found out ever could. He would take shackles and enslavement to this any day.

Anything to have his family back.

Anything.

But hoping was no use. They were gone.

Ho-tep, his employer, had been first. Between closing his shop one night and opening the next morning he had gone missing and his shop had legally come under 'new administration.' All Santon managed to find of him was a smear of blood and a few stray hairs. Santon couldn't tell whether Ho-tep had been enslaved or killed. But, whatever the case, Ho-tep had either broken some major laws or someone very powerful had paid some hefty bribes to have his shop repurposed by the Zephyr Guard so fast.

Despite the dangers inherent in tracking down a criminal during his punishment, Santon and his brother Chochy had tried. It took a single day of digging for information before Chochy went missing.

Santon confided in his elder sister Haleen that night and the next morning they had set out to find both Ho-tep, who was more of an uncle to them than anything, and Chochy. After a week Haleen disappeared.

She had left behind a note.

'I'm leaving,' it read. 'I don't care about any of you anymore, so don't try to find me.'

Santon knew she hadn't meant what she had written. Haleen would never leave them. She had raised them. She was the closest thing he and Chochy had to a mother. The note was a warning which, to Santon, was as clear as day.

'Don't come after me,' it said. 'You'll get hurt.'

And so, Santon did the only thing he could do.

He tried to find his sister.

It had been three lonely, sorrow filled months since then. Santon had used up his savings to grease the palms of all the information brokers he could find. He paid his bribes, eaves dropped, and kept an ear to the ground for any hint or rumor of his family's whereabouts. He personally checked every lead out and time after time, came up with nothing but a lighter coin purse.

Now, he stood outside of the small, one room home he had shared with his siblings and signed his name at the bottom of a long scroll of parchment. Beside him, a Contract Broker added his name.

That was it.

It was done.

Santon had just sold the last of his possessions - his home - in order to raise enough money to follow up on one of the two final leads he had.

The first was a sighting of a woman matching Haleen's description fighting battles for gold in a dump of a town called Kelmarane. The other was of a similar woman sold in Okeno's infamous Fleshfair two months ago to a brothel. They were both a long journey away, and both in opposite directions.

Santon had no idea which he would follow.

The second had come from more reliable sources but the first... Well, he just liked the idea of the first better. It meant Haleen wasn't broken. That she hadn't given up. Still, the sale of his house had only given him enough money for one trip. He couldn't base his choice on his hopes alone. He should go to Okeno.

Santon smiled his easy, innocent smile and held out a smooth hand to the Contract Broker. "Pleasure doing business with you, sir!"

The Contract Broker shook his hand. "Of course. If you ever need my services again-"

"Yes, yes! I'll think of you, for sure! You have been such a big help!" Santon paused , scratched the back of his head and then burst out in a self-depreciating laugh. "I couldn't have done it without you!"

The Contract Broker smiled.

Santon had forgotten the man's name. No matter. He wouldn't need his services again. One way or another he was leaving Katapesh and he had no intentions of returning. Without his family, there was nothing for him here.

He would either find his family, or die trying.

Santon turned away from the forgettable Contract Broker with the cheap rates and walked away. He pulled Haleen's note from his pocket and held it out before him. He had read it at least a hundred times.

'I'm leaving.' it said in it's frantic script. 'I don't care about any of you anymore, so don't try to find me.'

It was all he had left of his family.


	4. Chapter 3: A Fateful Meeting

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Three

A Fateful Meeting

Santon walked the narrow, winding pathways of Katapesh for the last time. He walked as if he had not a care in the world and seemed to pay no attention to the stalls about him. He wore his self-righteous smile with ease and bore his chin tilted up. As he walked he listened to those he passed.

"Finest silks in all of Katapesh!"

"Ancient Osirion relics!"

A trio of whores purred at him through pouting lips. "Santon! Come visit us."

He smiled and bowed deeply. "Fear not, fair maids! I'll stop by as soon as Father allows me the funds!"

"We miss you!"

One of them even meant it. Interesting. He waved his hand in farewell. "I pray it will be soon!"

A pickpocket fumbled at Santon's coin purse, but he let her lift it off of him without reacting. It contained fake coins. The poor fool would probably lose a hand when she tried to spend them. Perhaps it would teach her some caution.

Santon continued down the road towards the Dock District. He intended to book passage on a ship heading straight for the island city of Okeno.

"Talking apes from the deepest jungles!" a slaver called out above the crowd.

"Undiluted pesh!"

"Camels! Camels for sale! Finest camels to walk the sands! On sale now for just-"

"Yes, yes." muttered a swindler. "Of course I know the way to the Dawn Gate. I can lead you there."

"I won't pay." answered his mark.

"Oh, of course not! Old Rafiq here needs no payment to do a good turn for a man the likes of yourself."

Santon shook his head and held in a laugh. Old Rafiq was playing the oldest game in town. First you offer your services as a guide, then you take your tourist down a back alley and shank him for his gold. Only Rafiq was such a poor liar it hurt Santon to even listen. Had the man no guile?

"Thank you, peasant." the mark responded. "I wish to leave through this Dawn Gate as soon as possible. I am needed in Kelmarane."

Santon stopped dead in his tracks. His smile froze for a moment, but never slipped from his face.

Kelmarane?

Santon was not a pious man. Despite the myriad of gods known to him he didn't worship a single one. He did, however, trust his gut. And when his gut told him to go one way, his brain told him to go another and a completely random event occurred to bring his gut reaction back to the surface, Santon knew better than to ignore it. He would go with his gut.

Old Rafiq turned out to be mighty old, indeed. He looked like a long-time beggar and bore the dirty clothes and missing teeth to match.

His mark had bronzed skin and impeccably clean, rich, silk robes, but had a foreign look about him. He sat upon a spoiled looking camel groomed better than many of the people milling about them. He appeared frail, but pampered, as if he had never done a days worth of physical labour in his life. He carried a parasol in one delicate hand and held his camels reigns in the other.

Beside him stood a man who had almost the exact same facial features as the first. They were brothers, no doubt. Oddly though, that is where their similarities ended. The second brother, younger by his guess, walked upon his own feet. He wore filthy, threadbare clothes and was almost as covered in dust and grime as Old Rafiq. He was muscular everywhere that his brother was delicate and obviously the more physical of the two. His eyes had something of a blue sheen to them, while under his torn, slightly too short, linen pants Santon caught sight of what appeared to be light blue scales upon his legs.

Old Rafiq beckoned the brothers forward, into a nearby alley.

The elder brother on the camel followed without hesitation, while the dirty, younger brother grabbed onto the camels reigns.

"No, Nes. He means you ill."

"Nonsense! This Rafiq fellow will show us the way. Come, Fudin."

Fudin released his brother's reigns and Nes entered the alley. Fudin paused for a moment, shrugged his shoulders and followed.

Santon shook his head in disbelief. They were both idiots.

Santon followed them into the alley. He threw his arm around the younger brother's shoulders. The strange foreigner tensed, but made no move to shrug him off.

"Fudin, my friend!" Santon shouted with gusto. "Long has it been since you visited last. My Father bids you stay with us, again! Come!"

Fudin raised his eyes to Santon's. Nes turned his camel to view them both and opened his mouth to speak.

Santon cut him off. "I am sorry, Rafiq, but you'll have to find another mark today. Pactbroker Sayyid would like a word with these two."

Rafiq blanched and raised an eyebrow. He doubted Santon's claims, as any native of Katapesh would, but knew better than to make a fuss. Santon, at least, saw through his lies, which meant that these two strangers would no longer be an easy kill.

"Yes, of course." Rafiq answered with a bow of his head as he slunk away. "If the Pactbroker wills it..."

Santon smiled. "Good man!"

"Fudin," Nes stammered. "How do you know this man?"

Fudin shrugged off Santon's arm. "I do not. But, you should thank him nonetheless, my brother."

"He lost us our guide!"

Santon chuckled. "I suppose I did." He bowed to the elder brother. "My apologies, sir. I just noticed that poor man looked rather worn and, as I happen to be heading to Kelmarane myself, I thought I might lead you to the Dawn Gate in his stead."

Fudin raised an eyebrow and Nes cocked his head.

"He did look rather... tired." Nes responded. "And this blasted heat can take such a toll on the body..."

"Besides," Santon continued, "You look like you would enjoy a higher class of company. I myself am the son of a powerful merchant lord. Quite a few steps above the common riffraff you'll find wandering these streets."

The suspicion left Nes' eyes. "Yes. Lead the way, Merchant."

Santon smiled and threw his arm back around Fudin's shoulders.

"The name's Santon Synger and the Dawn Gate is this way." He turned the duo back around and out of the shadowy alley. He glanced once more at the distant ocean before beginning the long, meandering walk to the Dawn Gate.

Okeno could wait.

Kelmarane was calling.


	5. Chapter 4: An Answered Prayer

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Four

An Answered Prayer

Bree awoke in the corner of a dingy bar. She was slumped over a dirty, wooden table with her blonde, sweat-soaked hair acting as a makeshift pillow. The sun stung her eyes and the roar of the outdoor market stalls made her head pound. The heat made her nauseous. She sighed and reached for a glass to find it gone.

"Bitter brew," she swore. Her voice was raw.

Cayden's curse was heavy upon her this morning. She hadn't been this hung over in a very, very long time.

She groaned, pried her head off of the table and squinted into the bright, open bar. It was as packed as it had been the night before. Apparently the people of Katapesh indulged at all times of the day. This, at least, she had in common with them. As a devotee of the Drunken God she firmly believed it was never too early for a drink.

Bree had come in late last night, overwhelmed and defeated. She had drank and prayed and drank and prayed, hoping that her god, Cayden Cailean, would answer her prayers. That he would send her a sign.

He didn't.

But, that hadn't stop Bree from sampling the local spirits.

She wasn't sure when she had passed out, but she was sure she had paid her bill, so that was a minor blessing. She had no idea how much it had cost, but was sure her coin purse was much, much lighter than it had been yesterday. In fact, it felt almost-

She reached down and felt for her coin purse.

Gone.

She groaned. "Foul brew!"

Here she was, halfway across the world from her home, hung over in a stuffy, _hot_ bar in a sweaty, _hot_ city filled with the most greedy people she had ever encountered and she had already been robbed.

She hated Katapesh.

If not for Norn she wouldn't even be here.

She had been foolish to think that she could accomplish what he couldn't. Foolish and naive. Bree had only been in Katapesh for three days, and it had already overwhelmed her. Defeated her. Now she sat listlessly in a bar, depressed, poor and alone.

It was the alone that stung the most.

Alone again.

Bree had been born to a very high-ranking Taldan noble and a courtesan. Although, if she was being fair, courtesan was a rather generous term to apply to her mother. She was a bought and paid for slave made up to look classy. The nobles liked it better that way. As Bree was the first child born to the nobleman, Lord Proulx, she and her mother were given a relatively comfortable life. Until, when she was twelve years old, her father's wife finally bore him a child. A son.

That was the first time her life came crashing down.

At the time, her mother was being whored out to other upperclass noble families under the guise of being a mistress. Bree had just begun to understand her beloved mother's delicate situation and was developing a rather strong distaste for society's upper crust.

With the birth of his son, Lord Proulx looked into his illegitimate daughter's mismatched eyes, one green and one blue - the eyes of his own mother - and knew, without a doubt, that she looked far more like a Proulx than his own son. Seeing the danger that she posed to his noble boy, he panicked.

He sent forth his best knights into the dark, cold night to kill both his daughter and her mother. There could be no threat to his son's accession.

Fortunately for Bree, her mother was a smart woman. With the birth of Lord Proulx's first legitimate child she saw not a blessing, but a curse. She saw her death. She gathered all the money and goods she had ferreted away over the years and gave them to Bree in the hope that her beautiful daughter could escape both death, and the life of enslavement waiting for her. She encouraged Bree to flee, when the time came, to the country of Andoran, the birthplace of freedom. There, she hoped, she would be safe.

When the knights came Bree lingered in the shadows of her and her mother's dark chambers only long enough to see her mother cut down. In that one, final, fateful swing of a sword, Bree changed. Her dislike of nobility turned to outright hatred and her slowly budding social conscience birthed an abhorrence of slavery. Most importantly, she was now alone. Bree slunk away as quietly as she could, crying soundlessly to the night.

She no longer had a family. She no longer had a home. She didn't even have a last name. All traces of her old life were gone.

Upon arriving in Andoran she met an old retired mercenary by the name of Norn Ironhand. He owned a tavern devoted to Cayden Cailean, the Drunken God of alcohol, parties and freedom. Norn offered her work and a place to stay.

In her he recognized the same drive he once had. The same fire.

"You're all piss and vinegar," he had told her when they first met. "Come on in."

And he was right. Bree yearned to make a difference in their world. To cause a change. To protect the weak and ensure that no person was oppressed again, as her mother had been, or had to suffer loss, as she had.

They were lofty goals, she knew, but she worked for them all the same.

Under Norn's guidance Bree practiced tirelessly to perfect her use of the scimitar, a light, curved blade. She prayed to Cayden Cailean for guidance and luck. She learned the art of diplomacy and studied the laws that enslaved and oppressed.

During her time with Norn, Bree worked in his tavern. She quickly became a popular part of the bar and made many friends. She always had a kind word and a smile for all of the patrons. But, her happy life in Andoran was not meant to last.

Norn was old and over the next six years, Bree watched him deteriorate. He was succumbing to his age.

Bree sat by his deathbed, helpless, as Norn passed from this world and went to join the Drunken God in eternal revelry. As he breathed his last breath she sobbed. She had once again lost a loved one. She was alone.

She could have stayed on at the tavern, of course. She could have taken it over and run it as Norn had, but she didn't. She chose a different path for herself. She chose Norn's path.

As a youth, Norn had tried to stamp out slavery in the desert country of Katapesh. It was a mercantile country as notorious for its greed as its slavery. More specifically, he had fought against the gnolls, intelligent hyena-like humanoids, who roamed the sand dunes enslaving locals and foreigners alike to sell on Katapesh's slave blocks.

This is the cause Bree would take up. With his dying breath she swore, for Norn and for her Mother, that she would travel to Katapesh and put an end to slavery and oppression in all it's forms.

How naive she had been then. How foolish.

How could one woman, no more than eighteen, with no allies, no friends and now, no money, hope to make any difference in the biggest slave market in the world? She wasn't ready for this. She was going to get herself killed.

Bree sighed and reached for the wineskin hung around her hip.

And then she noticed it.

The parchment upon the table.

She eyed it curiously. It was written in a simple, neat script in the common tongue.

'Travel under the blessing of the ever watchful Pactmasters!' it read. 'Join the Merchant Princess Almah's Caravan. Retake the lost trading town of Kelmarane from the Gnolls of the Brazen Peaks and earn respect, prestige, gold, and the favour of the honourable Pactmasters! Caravan leaves on Fireday, the 8th of Rova. Contact Garavel at the Dawn Gate by Oathday for more information.'

Bree held the parchment in shaking hands.

Cayden Cailean had answered her prayers.

He had given her a sign.

No. He had given her much more than a sign. He had given her purpose. He had given her direction. He had given her hope.

Bree was going to Kelmarane.


	6. Chapter 5: Bellflowers and Booze

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Five

Bellflowers and Booze

Bree stood on another crowded, merchant lined road surrounded by shouts and arguments. She had been wandering around since midday looking desperately for the Dawn Gate with no luck. To her, each street looked the same. The merchants and their wares blended into one another and even the buildings quickly became a repetitive blur. To make matters worse, every person she asked for directions replied with a sales pitch.

The sun was beginning to set. She was running out of time. She sighed.

"The Dawn Gate?" she asked the nearest person. "Where is it?"

"Oh, very far indeed. This camel will get you there in the blink of an eye."

Bree shook her head. "No. I don't-"

"I can guide you there for a fair sum!" cut in a dirty, young boy.

"Please, just-"

"Maps of the city for sale! They'll help you find your way, miss!"

"Froth and foam!" These people were driving her crazy! Bree shook her head. "I just need-"

A finger tapped her on the side.

"Begging your pardon, ma'am. But the Dawn Gate lies to the North."

The merchants and peddlers frowned and ceased their arguing.

Bree turned to find a halfling - a small, child-like race known for their stealth - standing behind her. He wore the same light linen and cotton robes as the locals, but was much paler than them - though his skin was rather red from the sun. A messy mop of black hair sat upon his head and a small, blue bellflower was pinned to the the collar of his robe. Bree's brow creased in confusion. It was a flower local to much cooler climates. She hadn't seen one since leaving home.

"North?" she asked. "Truly?"

The halfling smiled and nodded. "Truly."

"My thanks!" Bree said as she turned to leave. "May Cayden's favour find you!"

"A word of advice?"

Bree paused, but turned back to him. "I'm in a rush."

"Aren't we all." the halfling chuckled. "You're not from around here. I'd be careful with that tankard at your hip."

Bree raised an eyebrow in confusion. The tankard looped onto her belt was a holy symbol of her god. "I thought all of the gods were permitted here."

"Oh, it's permitted, all right. But when certain... lively merchandise goes missing around these parts it's often folks such as yourself who take the most heat for it. And, I expect you'll have enough trouble handling the heat as it is."

Bree blanched. Somehow this halfling saw right through her. He knew what she was here for and he knew that she intended to cause trouble. If he shared his suspicions she would be brought straight to the authorities with or without proof. And yet, he offered her a warning instead. He could be punished now as easily as she.

The halfling flashed her a smile and winked a sparkling blue eye. "You can call me Tiller. If you find the heat turns out to be too much for you or find yourself in the flames, ask for a bellflower. It should help."

"My thanks, Tiller."

"Best be on your way now, lass." he chided as he waved his hand in farewell. In between his fingers she spotted a small eagle charm and then, with a subtle flick of his wrist, it was gone. He smiled, turned and walked away.

Bree stood frozen in place. People milled all around her. Some bumped into her, others brushed past and a few even yelled at her to move. She paid them less attention than a merchant does a beggar.

The golden eagle consumed her. It was the symbol of the Eagle Knights of Andoran and meant that Tiller was a freedom fighter from her home.

Perhaps she should follow him. She could be of help here, surely. Maybe with his guidance she could...

She looked at the crumpled paper in her hands. The sign from her god. Bree laid a hand upon the copper tankard at her hip. She smiled as Tiller became lost among the unfamiliar faces swirling about her. "Cayden's will be done."

She turned north and ran through the crowded, twisting streets as fast as she could. She arrived at the Dawn Gate just as the sun finished drifting below the horizon. She was too late.

"Garavel?" she shouted to the people around her. "Garavel?"

The Dawn Gate was packed. Water peddlers and camel merchants dominated the entryway, alongside dirty street urchins, beggars and guides. A few large tents were set up nearby. Some were red, some blue, but most were brown.

"Garavel?"

A whistle sounded from her left. She turned to find a group of six people sitting around a water keg.

"Looking to join us, gorgeous?" one of the people called in a deep, gravelly voice. A few of the others laughed in response.

Bree ignored the remark and stalked up to them. There were six of them, three men and three women. Each wore dirty clothes and had greasy, messy hair. They dressed differently, but wore the same brown coat with black trim. It was cut in the style of her homelands, although these six were all obviously locals. How strange.

"Garavel?"

"For you, I could be." the same man responded. He wore loose beige pants with a dark brown sash at his hip. From it, hung two sabers resting in their scabbards. Their handles appeared well worn, but cared for. His coat hung open, revealing his naked, sweaty chest. He appeared fit, but far more rugged than refined. He had wild, black, shoulder length hair with a band wrapped around his forehead and wrists. His beard and moustache were trimmed short. He and his allies were likely a band of mercenaries hired to protect the caravan. Bree smiled. She had dealt with men like him back home. They came into Norn's bar to boast and drink their wages away, but were often more vulgar than dangerous.

Bree leaned forward as if she were about to reveal a secret to him. Her chain mail shirt dipped forward, revealing a hint of cleavage beneath. "I'm looking to join his caravan but find myself a little short on time. If you could point him out to me, I'd be mighty grateful. Besides, I'm sure we can get to know each other much better afterwards."

The man smiled and a few of his friends clapped him on the back. One of the women - young and rather pretty - shook her head and rolled her eyes, causing her braided hair to dance around her.

"He's in the red tent, precious." the man answered.

Bree winked at him and stood up before running off to the red tent.

Behind her, the man boasted loudly to his comrades, while one of the women - the pretty one, no doubt - pouted.

"The Northerner is just using you, Trevvis." Her accent was slightly different than the others. It was still throaty, but thicker. Almost phlegmy. She was definitely from further east than Katapesh. Qadira, perhaps?

"She can use me all she wants." he responded with a deep laugh.

Four guards dressed in strange, red, plate armor created from the body of some kind of massive bug, stood outside of the entrance to Garavel's tent. Each wore a sash over the lower part of their faces and was bald, except for a trimmed line or two of hair running from their foreheads to their necks. They each wore a scimitar sheathed at their side, and held a glaive - a single-edged blade mounted on a pole - in their hands.

"I wish to see Garavel." Bree proclaimed. "I've come to join his caravan."

Two of the guards crossed their glaives over the entrance of the tent while the other two stepped forward. "The sun has set. Garavel is no longer taking visitors."

"I had trouble finding the place."

"Your excuses make no difference. The sun has set. He is no longer accepting visitors."

"Please. I need to join the caravan to Kelmarane."

The guards neither moved nor responded.

"Please!"

The guards ignored her.

Bree frowned. They wouldn't stop her. They couldn't stop her. She had been sent here on the behalf of her god. She would get in.

"Let me in." she ordered.

The guards didn't move.

"Garavel!" Bree shouted. "I have come to join your caravan!" She waited for a moment. "You will not ignore me!"

A rustling sounded from inside the tent and a thin, middle-aged man dressed in traveling robes stepped out. "What is the commotion?" he asked.

"I have come to join your caravan. Your guards would not give me audience."

"They do as they were bid to. The sun has set. Oathday is over. You are too late. Return to your home." He spoke in a calm, monotonous voice.

"I came to join this caravan at my god's bidding. I have journeyed too far to be turned away now."

Garavel did not react. It was as if he were made of stone. "The sun has set." he repeated as emotionlessly as before. "Oathday is over. You are too late. Return to your home."

"I will not! You will not deny me!"

"The sun has set," Garavel began again. "Oathday is over."

"Let her in," a silken voice called from within the tent.

Garavel fell silent and the guards moved their glaives out of the way.

"The Merchant Princess Almah Roveshki will see you." Garavel said with a bow of his head. He turned, and led the way into the large red tent. Bree followed in triumph.

The tent was richly furnished with an array of pillows and blankets. Amid the sea of silks and cottons sat a few elaborate serving trays loaded with fruit and wine. Sitting reclined amidst the pillows was a beautiful young woman wrapped in white and blue veils. She had bronze, soft looking skin and long, black, elaborately braided hair intertwined with glittering gems. Her wrists and arms were covered with golden bracelets and bangles. Her eyes were lined with kohl and she smelt of jasmine.

Bree, filthy from days in the heat without a bath, blushed. She glanced down at her dusty leather boots and frowned. She hadn't been in such opulence since her childhood in Taldor and already she had managed to wreck it.

"What causes you to disturb me so late?" the woman, Princess Roveshki, asked.

Bree looked at the dirt she had tracked into the tent and strewn about the rich, carpet-lined floor. The cost of the carpets alone could feed the poor she had seen outside for a month. She frowned and glanced around the tent. She didn't see any slaves or servants, but a woman of such wealth was bound to have them somewhere. After a moment Bree raised her eyes in defiance. "I have been sent by my god to join your caravan. The greedy, unhelpful nature of the citizens of Katapesh is to blame for my delayed arrival and disturbing you so late."

Princess Roveshki raised a trimmed eyebrow at her words. "And you think I would hire you with such and introduction?"

Bree frowned. She had had enough. "I came here to ask for a job in your caravan, Almah." She used the Princess' first name to insult her. Back home it would have implied that they were equals. She hoped it would mean the same thing here. "I have since changed my mind. I bring you an offer instead." She paused for emphasis but the woman made no reaction. "I am going to Kelmarane," she continued. "However, since I don't know where that is, I'm going to follow your caravan. Also, I got robbed this morning, so I'm going to eat your food as well. If any trouble comes, I will defend those around me. You can pay me for it, or not. Either way, I am destined to be here, so you will not get rid of me. My god will not let you."

The woman's eyes narrowed above her veils. She was definitely not used to being told what to do.

"And what god is that?"

"I am a devotee of Cayden Cailean."

"Followers of the drunken god are often unreliable and reckless. Are you?"

"Yes." Bree responded with a nod. "And honourable and true."

The woman laughed. "You are not from around here." Her eyes sparkled. "Here, lies are as common as sand, and honesty is as rare as a pool in the desert. Many would not hire you for your audacity alone. Many more would not hire you for your choice in patrons. I, however, am not like most."

"You're a good deal richer, by the looks of it."

"And forgiving. You may join my caravan as a guard."

Bree nodded. "My thanks."

"Katapesh is not like whatever northern country you hail from. Here, everyone hides behind a veil. If you do not learn to see beyond them, to lift the layers, you will turn friends into enemies and gather only enemies as your friends."

Bree stood in silence, barely listening. Nobles were fond of giving orders and Bree had long since learned to ignore them.

"Best learn to read others before you judge them," Princess Roveshki continued. "Many are not as understanding as I. Now leave my quarters."

"Gladly."

The air outside, despite it's heat, was refreshing. Bree sighed and took a deep breath. She hated nobles. Spoiled, stuck-up pigs, the lot of them! They were less useful than a leaky keg! Bree caught the scent of roast meat on the wind and her stomach grumbled in response. She felt for her coin purse and frowned. This would be a long night.

A heavy hand fell upon her shoulder.

"Join me for a drink, jasmine?" Trevvis' deep voice asked. His hot breath raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

Bree smiled and placed a hand on the copper tankard at her hip. "I'm always up for a drink."

Trevvis laughed and she turned to face him. His brown eyes sparkled in the moonlight. "I thought so." he said.

"Got any food?" Bree asked. "I'm starving."

Trevvis moved his hand along her back to encase her shoulders in his arm. He raised his other hand and pointed to a nearby bar. "Why don't I treat you tonight, Northerner?"

"You're going to regret that offer."

"I doubt it."

Bree raised her thoughts in prayer.

My thanks, Lord Cailean. I'll dedicate the first drink to you.

No. He deserved more than that. He had, after all, paid rather close attention to her this past day.

Best make it the first ten.


	7. Chapter 6: The Fire

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Six

The Fire

The caravan turned out to be smaller than Bree imagined. They numbered twenty in total, most of them hired guards. They travelled mostly at night, when the temperature was lowest, until mid morning when they set up camp and rested until the sun was setting and the sun-baked earth ceased to burn. Still, Bree found the heat oppressive. Her clothes weren't suited to the climate and she had trouble adjusting her sleeping patterns. After the first day the sun gave her headaches and she was finding it hard to eat anything. Her skin had turned bright red and sore, and by the second day it was even worse. It hurt to the touch and started peeling off in thin sheets.

Trevvis turned out to be a life saver. He gave her a cream to put on her skin and stave off the worst of the sun's effects. It helped, but she still felt like a boiled lobster. Trevvis brought her water and food, lingering to make sure she ate it. Later he gave her some kind of medicine to take away her sickness.

"Sarenrae's light is strong in these lands, ruby." he told her, referring to the desert goddess of the sun. "She'll push you until she's sure you can take it. If you don't take care of yourself, you'll die before you can."

She assumed he had knowledge in herbs and remedies, but learned later that he had paid the caravan's healer to make them for her. Although she didn't like to admit it, she owed Trevvis more than she could repay. The thought scared her. She didn't want to be indebted to a citizen of Katapesh. Legally, he could claim her as a slave when it was revealed she couldn't pay him back. She was good with a blade, though. If it came to that he'd find her harder to take than most. She'd have to watch herself. Debts could be dangerous.

Still, Trevvis was her closest comrade. She spent most of her down time eating and drinking with him and was surprised to find he could keep up with her in the latter. Not many could. His laugh was contagious, and he was always in good spirits.

Today was their seventh day of travel and they had finally reached the landmark known as the Sultan's Claw. It didn't seem like much to Bree, just a dead-looking, five limbed, leafless tree. Although, that in itself was exciting, she supposed. The heat baked scrublands of Katapesh offered little change in scenery. According to Trevvis there was only few more days left in their journey. Bree hoped he was right. She didn't know how much more of this she could take.

"Here." Trevvis said. He handed her a water skin. "Drink, desert flower, before you faint."

"Why do you call me a different name each time you speak to me?"

"I'm searching for the right name for you, my golden one." He bent down to help her set up her makeshift tent. It was little more than a piece of canvas and a few poles.

She laughed. "I bet it's so your girlfriend's never know when you call them by the other's name."

"Are you offering your services then, my paranoid northerner?"

"Nice try. And Bree is fine."

"Perhaps I'll go with 'Picky.' " he responded with a laugh. "Or 'Tease.' "

Bree frowned. "If you want to keep all your digits, you'd best stick with 'golden one.' "

"Get in the shade, my delicate one, before you get heat stroke again."

"Froth and foam, Trevvis! I'm fine."

"Quit playing house and help me with this fire!" one of his friends called from behind them. It was Brotis, the pretty one. She had made no secret of her dislike of Bree and, for her part, Bree returned her sentiments tenfold. Brotis was demanding, judgmental and had a habit of belittling other women. She was also having sex with nearly every man in the camp. So many had sown their seed in her that any infants would come out speaking ten languages!

Trevvis sighed dramatically. "A man such as myself is always in demand."

"Your second girlfriend is calling." Bree teased.

"Who then, my pet, is my first?"

Bree shook her head and wandered into the shade of the canvas Trevvis had set up for her. In all honesty, she was exhausted from the heat. She took off her chain shirt, leaving her in a sweaty green blouse, and lay down on a blanket atop the warm ground. Her burnt back ached at the contact, but she ignored it, closed her eyes, and went to sleep.

It had been a long day.

* * *

Nes sat upon his camel, Reginald, glancing out across the horizon. His cushioned saddle was warm beneath him, but he didn't mind. He had cast protective wards upon both himself and his beloved mount before the sun had even neared its apex. He would neither feel the heat, nor suffer from it's ill effects.

Beside him, his brother, Fudin, paced cautiously. His unusual blue eyes darted about, missing nothing.

Nes sighed and spun in his saddle. He raised a delicate, manicured hand to adjust his parasol before turning back to the horizon. After only a moment he sighed once again.

"You're supposed to watch the horizon, brother," Fudin said without looking his direction "not your complexion."

Nes frowned. "You know as well as I that we were meant for greater than this, Fudin. It chafes me, to enact such... menial labour."

Fudin laughed. "We may be important back home, Nes, but here - and especially out here," he said with a gesture at their surroundings "we are nobody."

Nes turned up his nose at the thought and patted his camel on the side of the head. Reginald snorted in delight, causing Nes to smile. He was such a noble beast! "We are the sons of the great Kassim Sahadine," Nes began, switching from Taldane - the common tongue - to his native language of Darech. "the royal advisor to the Sultan of Dardarech. We have been tutored by the finest scholars in the world. We will never be nothing, Fudin. Unknown, perhaps, but never nothing. Our education alone sets us apart in this barbarous land."

"You know why we came here, Nes, as well as I."

Nes nodded and, though Fudin never looked at him, he was sure he saw the gesture.

Fudin continued. "We came to make Father proud. To earn our family name. To create our own legacy. To prove we are worthy even in a land where we are unknown."

"Yes, yes, Fudin," Nes cut in. "But why did you want to join this caravan?"

"Best to start from nothing. Besides, you're spoiled."

"No!"

Fudin laughed. "Even your camel is spoiled, my brother. She eats better than half the caravan."

Nes reached down a hand and patted Reginald again, speaking to him in gentle tones. "Do not listen to him, my sweet. He is jealous of your beauty. Besides," Nes continued louder, talking to Fudin this time, "that is no difficult task. The food here resembles mud more than anything else."

"Just do your job, Nes, or we'll be dismissed. What a grand legacy we would make then."

Nes frowned. He hated sentry duty. It was mind numbing. Surely his keen intellect could be of better use elsewhere? He sighed and turned his eyes back to the horizon and spotted... nothing. Again.

They were in the Uwaga Highlands, a region in the northwest part of the country of Katapesh. It was fairly hot and arid - not that Nes could tell, cloaked as he was in a myriad of spells. It was a massive tract of land covered completely in parched, hard packed earth, loose rocks, rugged hills, and stands of tall cacti. Aside from the sparse population of lizards and vultures - and what they survived on Nes couldn't fathom - they hadn't seen another living soul in days.

Fudin cocked his head to the side. He sniffed deeply. "Smoke."

Nes scanned the horizon but saw nothing. He took a deep breath but couldn't smell anything either. It didn't surprise him. Fudin had always had keener physical senses than him. "Where?" He peeled back his silken sleeves and reached for Spitfire, a ruby-tipped heirloom wand passed down in the Sahadine family for generations. "I don't see the attackers."

"Behind us. It's coming from camp."

Had they failed in their task? Impossible! He may not have been as tentative as his brother, but he had done his duty!

Fudin turned and took off at a run back to camp. His bare feet, covered in glistening blue scales, picked their way effortlessly across the craggy, uneven earth. Nes clicked his tongue once, causing Reginald to turn, before urging him onward.

"Quickly, now!"

Things were about to get interesting.

He urged Reginald on as fast as he could go, but Fudin managed to keep pace with them all the same. They reached the camp just as the call of "Fire!" rang out.

Nes turned Reginald from side to side, but spotted no enemies.

"No hostiles." Fudin said, switching back to the common tongue.

Nes surveyed the camp again and nodded. He spurred Reginald forward, towards a single wagon engulfed in lush orange and red flames near the Sultan's Claw. Smoke poured from it's open door. As they neared, the Claw caught fire, spreading the flames quickly among its dried out limbs.

It was beautiful.

And not a soul was trying to put it out.

Nes shook his head at their stupidity. At their fear.

They were a flock of lost sheep. He would guide them. Under him they would endure.

"Open the water kegs!" Nes shouted at his brother. Fudin nodded and turned, veering off course to the water wagons. Nes guided Reginald as near to the fire as he dared before turning to the frantic people around him. "You!" he shouted, pointing at a nearby group of filthy mercenaries, "Check for inhabitants! Find buckets!" He stepped down off of Reginald and continued shouting orders out to the dazed caravan members. "Alert the Princess! Catch the livestock before they flee!"

He turned his gaze to the flaming wagon just as Fudin neared him with the first bucket of water.

"Halavim hanavim habiqavim," Nes whispered to himself, lacing the ancient words with arcane power. Come to me. Enter me. Obey me. Absently, Nes noticed Fudin pour the bucket on the flames before running back to the water wagons. Nes moved his hands in a practiced motion, representing runes and complex concepts with his fingers: magic, inquiry, dominance, revelation, identity. "Kaleem iban halkwan!" Reveal your secrets!

With the completion of his spell, Nes' eyes shone with a brilliant white glow. He stared hard into the flames, but nothing changed. This was no magical fire, it had occurred naturally. He blinked, causing his eyes to revert to normal.

Intentional or not, some fool had actually set fire to their own camp.

Nes sighed as he took a full bucket from one of the nearby mercenaries and tossed it onto the wagon. He would work at the front of the line along with the muscle bound brutes he had ordered to help. He may not be as strong as them, or as his brother, but he did have one advantage over them.

Nes had nothing to fear from the flames.

Unfortunately, his robes could not say the same.

* * *

"Fire!" a familiar voice shouted. "Fire!"

Bree awoke with a start and looked around to find the entire camp in an uproar. Camels pranced in agitation in their pens, a clutch of confused goats and livestock wandered about aimlessly, bleating in terror and at least half of the camp rushed around, chasing down animals or hastening towards the center of the camp with pails of water in their hands in an attempt to douse the flames ravaging a wagon.

"Sweet barleybrew!" Bree cursed in surprise.

To her left, the central flap of Almah's elaborate red tent flew open and Almah, regal as always, stepped out into the midday sun. Her jewels and golden bangles glimmered about her. She was radiant. She paused for a moment, scanning the caravan, but did not panic.

"Douse that flame!" she shouted to the men surrounding the wagon before turning in Bree's direction. "Find some way to help!" Then she tore off her veil and ran towards the water wagon. "To me, Garavel!" she called over her shoulder, causing her four personal guards and major domo to follow.

Santon, a spoiled merchant's son from Katapesh set off immediately towards a wagon within a few feet of the flames. "Save the supply cart!" he yelled, dragging a few of Trevvis' friend's along with him.

On the other side of the burning wagon, a short, turbaned man knelt beside two figures that lay on the hard ground. Even over the crackling of the flames and the shouts of the guards she could hear their screams.

Bree raced forward, dodging goats and pushing her way past sheep, on her way to aid the injured. "I can help!"

The screams ceased. Was she too late?

Father Zastoran, a white-haired, old, halfling healer, crouched above the two figures who were both well-muscled and armoured. Their skin was flushed red and spotted here and there with oozing blisters. Bree stopped dead at the sight of them. It felt as if her stomach had dropped into her toes. Trevvis was among the wounded.

"No." Bree whimpered under her breath.

Her denial helped little.

A long, serious looking gash on his Trevvis' head bled uncontrollably while Father Zastoran knelt above him, working to stem the tide of blood. Trevvis groaned, but did not regain consciousness.

The physician looked up at Bree's approach and gestured at Trevvis' wounded friend, Kallien. "Help her," he said in a clipped Kelish accent, "she is dying and my magic is spent."

Bree threw herself down beside Kallien and reached out a steady hand to feel for a pulse. It was weak and her breathing was shallow. She didn't have much time. Bree took a deep, slow breath, and then a second, to calm herself. She placed both of her hands upon Kallien, one on her forehead and one on her stomach, and prayed.

"My Lord Cailean," she called out in a loud, steady voice. "We're down to the last dregs. Grant me your power and share with me your luck. It is not this woman's time to die."

Bree felt it immediately, that heady feeling when the very power of her god manifestsed inside of her, warming her. The smell of barley overtook her senses, followed by the taste of the finest ale. Distantly she heard a rowdy drinking song, and then another, but by then she was overwhelmed. Sensations that were not her own assaulted her, filled her, until she was disoriented. Overflowing. She released it then - the sensations and the power - all at once, into Kallien. The music faded, leaving behind the crackling of nearby flames and panicked shouts. Smoke and burnt flesh invaded her nostrils. Kallien's burns pulsed with a golden light and began to fade, frothing like a fresh mug of ale as they did. Some of the burns healed completely, while others remained a stain upon her flesh.

Bree's brow furrowed with worry as she reached out her hands again. "Once more, my Lord. It is not enough." But this time nothing happened. Bree was too weak. She reached out a shaking hand to check Kallien's pulse. It was steady and strong. Kallien would live.

Bree smiled. "Cayden's will be done." she mumbled clumsily before she fell to the ground, spent.

Let him live, my Lord. She prayed as her vision faded to black. Let him live.

Through the darkness she heard a familiar voice.

"Come back, my star flower." it said. "Don't go."


	8. Chapter 7: Ill Winds

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Seven

Ill Winds

Nes stood at the front of the line he had organized, tossing bucket after bucket of water onto the flaming wagon. His arms ached from the exertion and his smooth hands were already beginning to form blisters. Worst of all, his favorite silk robe was singed.

Whoever had done this, would pay.

Some time during the commotion Princess Roveshki and her retainers had joined the water line, working as hard as any of them. They helped, but the battle was far from won. The flames spread along the dry wood faster than the water was arriving and most of what water did make it the wagon was turning to steam before his eyes. The heat must have been intense.

They needed a second line.

To his left, Santon and some mercenaries worked to drag the supply carts away from the fire. If Nes and his crew could only hold the fire at bay until their comrades accomplished their task, they would best the flames.

Nes took another bucket from the man behind him, Garavel, he believed, and threw it onto the flames before him, followed by another, and another. Sweat poured down his face and arms, soaking his once fine robes.

Finally, Santon and his workers managed to drag the cart out of the range of errant sparks.

"Second line!" Nes called out. To his relief, Fudin and Santon seemed to know exactly what he meant, and guided the rest into a second line without much difficulty. Fudin worked beside him, closest to the flames.

Ever so slowly, they gained ground.

Muscles strained, skin burnt, water flew and the flames retreated. As the last of the embers died a half-hearted shout of triumph went up from among the caravan. They were too exhausted to muster much more.

Nes smiled. He had led them to this triumph. It was the start of great things.

Fudin stepped up beside him and clapped him on the back. "You did well, my brother."

"As did you. Father would be - " A shiver ran up his spine and he paused.

"What is it?"

"An ill wind blows." Nes whispered. He surveyed the camp around him.

From the burning embers of the wagon a number of colourful cards tumbled up into the sky. Nes eyed them suspiciously, watching their every motion as a stray breeze caught them, causing them to scatter. One card, caught in an updraft, tumbled far up into the air, before being picked up by the wind. It drifted away for a moment before the wind suddenly shifted, driving the card towards him. It landed upon his soot covered robe in a burst of orange cinders.

Curious, Nes picked up the card and snuffed its burning edges with his fingertips. It was sturdy and, despite its time in the roaring flames, only slightly singed. Upon one side it bore an elaborate, swirling pattern, mimicking the arcane symbols for divination, inquiry and tradition. The other was illustrated with a picture of an anthropomorphic tornado with a snarling, demonic visage tearing apart a village. A small hammer adorned the card's lower right hand corner.

It was a harrow card. A divination tool used in lands far to the north.

Nes raised an eyebrow at Fudin.

He was not familiar with the tradition himself, and did not know the meaning of all the cards, but it seemed as it this one shared it's symbology with arcane traditions familiar to him. The Cyclone signified a force that tears through whatever it meets – but it is not blind destruction. It is destruction at the behest of an intelligent being.

Ill winds bearing ill omens.

Nes smiled held the card up to Fudin. "Fate is a fickle mistress, indeed, my brother. War comes."

Fudin arched an eyebrow and, ever so slightly, smiled. "Our legacy is at hand."

Nes nodded and twirled the card between his fingers.

They were prepared to meet their destiny head on, without fear. It was what they had come here for.

Things were about to get very interesting.


	9. Chapter 8: Suspicion and Suspects

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Eight

Suspicions and Suspects

Bree awoke to the sight of Father Zastoran's long beard dangling inches above her face.

"-away."

She didn't quite catch what he was saying.

"There. It is done."

Bree paused for a moment and mentally checked her body. Her hands were clammy and shaking, but otherwise she felt fine. Cayden Cailean had smiled upon her.

She sat up and looked around. She was inside Almah's tent, piled atop a few cushions. Behind Father Zastoran, Garavel nodded.

"You may go." he said calmly to Father Zastoran, who stood as quickly as his creaking bones allowed, and hobbled out of the tent.

"Is Trevvis alright?" Bree asked.

"He is recovering." Garavel responded. "Father Zastoran believes that he is past the point of danger."

Bree sighed in relief.

Almah's tent looked much as it had in Katapesh. Almah, however, looked much different. Though she still reclined upon her cushions, she wore no makeup or perfumes. Soot smeared her perfectly bronzed skin and sweat glistened upon her, soaking through her disheveled silk robes. Her veils and elaborate headdress were gone, and her hair was loose and messy.

Before her stood three men. The first were Nes and Fudin who, at first guess she had presumed were a nobleman and his slave, but later found out were brothers. Who they were, where they were from, and why they dressed so differently, she couldn't fathom, but word around camp was they were rather tight-lipped about their history. The well-dressed one looked like a leaky keg, but she couldn't be sure about the other one.

The last was Santon. He was the son of a merchant from Katapesh. By the look of him, he was a rather successful one at that. She had presumed he would spend most of his time with the richer looking of the two brothers, or Almah, but it seemed he preferred a lower class of company. He spent his free time around the feast-fire with Trevvis and his friends, just as Bree did, and blended in just fine. He boasted as loudly as Trevvis, laughed as freely as Utarchus, told stories as eloquently as Dullen, spread his affections as freely as Brotis, ate as much as Kallien and was as youthful as Yesper. He was muscular and attractive, but utterly without tact. All in all, he seemed nice enough. He reminded her of the strapping young lads who came to Norn's bar for the first time: boisterous, inexperienced and ready to indulge. The guy was dripping with Cadyen's own luck, but he was certainly a drunken preacher - nothing but trouble. As far as she could tell he had already shared bedrolls with Brotis and Kallien, although he had not yet made any advances towards her.

"Welcome back," Santon said to her with a smile. "Trevvis has already made several failed attempts to visit you. I wouldn't worry about him."

"My thanks for the care, but I - "

"The Princess Roveshki would make a request of you." Garavel interrupted. He no longer wore his turban or keffiyah, and Bree noticed some kind of strange silver bolt protruding from the back of his neck.

Almah nodded. "A thousand thank you's for your help," she began formally from across the tent. Her cultured voice had a business-like tone to it. "I am Almah, heir and Princess of House Roveshki and agent of the Pactmasters. It was under my direction that Garavel has hired you and again that you were brought before me."

Bree frowned. Even filthy, Almah was a striking woman.

"One of my enlisted agents is dead and his property destroyed," Almah continued. Her voice was even and calm. She seemed more upset over the loss of property than anything. It made Bree's blood boil. Cayden's curse upon her!

Almah turned to her major domo. "I hereby task Garavel with overseeing agents of my choosing in an investigation of the fire in order to determine if their are misdeeds afoot, and to apprehend any persons suspected of wrongdoing. Furthermore, I assign Fudin Sahadine, Nes Sahadine, Santon Synger and the Northerner Bree to act as his agents in this endeavor. Do you accept your tasks?"

Garavel nodded in response and looked at the four hired hands gathered before him. They nodded in turn. His eyes locked with Bree's last. She watched as he wiped the sweat from his skin and replaced his keffiyeh to its place upon his head, covering up the strange silver bolt.

"Why us?" Bree asked with suspicion.

Garavel looked to Almah for permission to speak. She nodded at him once in assent.

"None of you were present when the fire broke out. You acted in order to aid the camp . You handled yourselves admirably under pressure. Therefore, you are well suited to this task."

Bree frowned, but nodded. "Alright, then." She didn't relish working with the Sahadine brothers, but when it came down to it she wanted to help. A man had lost his life in the fire. He deserved justice.

"It is settled then," Garavel confirmed. "I expect an unbiased investigation. You may follow the trail wherever it leads. Do not let your emotions hinder your progress. I expect an update by sundown." His voice was as neutral as ever. Did anything upset him?

"Whose wagon was it?" Nes enquired.

"The wagon belonged to a Princess Roveshki's personal fortune teller, Eloais. He hailed from her distant homeland of Varisia. He was young, handsome and healthy. His specialty was a divinatory deck of cards known as the Harrow."

"We will inspect his wagon shortly," Nes responded. "But first, what can you tell me of the... people here, Garavel? I have not taken the time to associate with many of them."

Bree snorted at his choice of words. As far as she could tell he was too pompous to talk to anyone but Father Zastoran, Almah and his brother.

Nes either didn't notice her response, or chose to ignore it.

Garavel nodded. "We number twenty in total. Other than yourselves, Princess Roveshki, and I there are fourteen more. Her personal guards number four in total. You will have recognized them by their red armour. It designates their standing as members of the Pactmaster Guard. This means that, like myself, they are loyal to the Princess, although not so much under her employ as the Pactmasters'. They were appointed to guard her with their lives and they will do so without question. They do not disobey. Their names are Fexx, Podarn, Keldon and Vodrave."

"Our further guards consist of six mercenaries who were hired in Katapesh. They have proven capable in combat and at watch. They are led by a man named Trevvis and include two other men and three women. The men are named Dullen and Utarchus. The women are named Yesper, Kallien and Brotis. Some amongst your number would know them better than I."

"Our tracker and guide is named Dashki. He is an expert on gnolls and is said to know the regions we will travel through quite well. He was hired in Solku and has been reliable to date."

"Our healer is a halfling priest named Father Zastoran. He has been Princess Roveshki's spiritual advisor and personal physician for some years. He worships the god of magics both benevolent and destructive, Nethys. He is quite changeable, but has proven loyal."

"Lastly, we have two animal herders among us, named Hadrah and Hadrod. They care for the livestock, camels and cook. They joined us in Solku and have proven to be hard working, capable and talkative. They know much that happens around camp."

Garavel tilted his head to the camp's entrance. "Anything further you will have to enquire about yourselves."

Nes nodded his head in response before turning to Almah with a practiced, respectful bow. His brother followed suit and performed the action with equal grace. "Rest assured, Princess Roveshki, that we will unravel this mystery in due time."

Bree frowned. She would not bow to this woman who cared more for profit than people. "How about we start right here, then?" she stated more than asked. "How do you feel about the death of Eloais?"

Nes and Fudin's jaws dropped. Santon's smile never faltered and he seemed more amused than anything. Almah's eyes narrowed.

"That is an impertinent attitude to have with a woman of Princess Roveshki's standing!" Nes replied with outrage. "She is obviously a woman of much higher caliber than your sort are used to and - "

"Enough," Almah interrupted. Her voice was bitter and her eyes were cold. "How do you think I feel, Northerner? My friend burned to death within sight of my door and no one on this caravan managed to help him."

Bree paused. She had misjudged Almah. It wasn't the first time. Almah had turned out to have no slaves or servants on hand, either. Of course, having none on hand didn't mean she had none. Bree considered allowing the woman a respite, but changed her mind. She turned to Nes instead.

"Garavel just told us to conduct an unbiased investigation. I think it only fair everyone here be treated equally. Besides, I'm not doing this for her, I'm doing this for Eloais."

Santon placed his arm around Bree's shoulder. "Garavel did say that, didn't he?" He chuckled. "Best continue, then." He turned to Almah. "My lady," he began with a twinkle in his eye and a nod of his head. "How did Eloais come to join your caravan?"

Almah's eyes softened. "I came upon Eloais in Solku over a month ago, shortly after hiring the camel drivers. I have never visited the land of my ancestors, but when I came upon his brightly coloured wagon I could not help but enter. He seemed to read the Harrow with grace, if nothing else and so I hired him. I cannot explain it, but I felt that having a Harrower at my side felt... right, somehow. I hired him on the spot and he set with out the next morning."

"And how often did you visit him, highness?"

"Often. Every other day or thereabouts. We spoke of our homeland, families and life in Katapesh. He performed Harrowings for me regularly."

"Were his predictions ever accurate?"

Almah paused and seemed to grow a shade paler.

Santon approached her and knelt down, to her level. "Anything he might have foreseen could help us, my lady."

She waited, seeming to decide how much to reveal. "Eloais' readings had grown increasingly grim of late. His last reading centered on an inauspicious card, the Cyclone. He said it portended death by fire and schemes by a powerful evil. I asked him if it indicated something about Kelmarane. He said it did, but that the village was only a small part of something larger that he called a 'Legacy of Fire.' "

"What else do you know of this legacy?"

"Nothing. I don't believe Eloais knew anything more either."

Santon nodded and reached out a hand to Almah. "May I?"

She placed her tiny hand within his and nodded, allowing Santon to bow to her and kiss her hand.

Bree shook her head. Cayden's codpiece, this was ridiculous! A man had just lost his life and Santon was flirting!

Santon stood, bowed again and turned to leave the tent. Nes and Fudin followed him, but Bree lingered.

"I am sorry your friend died." Bree said slowly after the others had gone.

"Do you remember what I told you when we first met?"

Bree shrugged her shoulders. "I wasn't really listening."

Almah smiled. "I told you that here, in Katapesh, everyone wears veils. We are raised to do so. It is a part of our culture. It is in our nature. It is a part of us."

Bree nodded. "You're two-faced."

Almah's smile did not fade or falter. "We are merchants." she said with a shrug of her shoulders, as if there was no difference. "That is why I chose to hire you."

Bree raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm not a merchant?"

"You have no veils. You believe that to mislead is unjust and I expect, due to some unfortunate past event, you wish to distance yourself from such things. I hired you because I could tell that you were true. This is also why I chose to involve you in this task."

Bree couldn't help it, she blushed.

Almah continued. "I know you mistrust me, but I also knew that you would accept the task I set before you and follow it to its end, no matter the destination."

"I will."

"Since you obviously did not take my advice last I offered it to you, I will repeat it one more time. You find yourself in an ocean of liars. Observe us. Learn from us."

"And if I don't?"

Almah shrugged. "If you do not, you will surely drown."

Bree turned and left Almah alone in her tent, without another word. She hated Katapesh.

She glanced around for a moment, spying out her so called comrades, and found them nearby, inspecting the fortune teller's wagon.

"What an impractical vehicle for this terrain," Nes was saying.

Fudin nodded his head. "It would only worsen as we near the foothills."

Bree eyed the wagon curiously. It was a charred hulk of ruined timber and curled paint remains. The roof was collapsed and the door and shutters were completely burnt away. It was built in the northern style, and was meant to serve as both transport and shelter for a traveller. She had seen many wagons like this back home, but none since coming to Katapesh. They weren't really meant for desert terrain. Still, it must have been quite beautiful before the fire claimed it. A few brightly coloured cards, singed by flames and soaked by water, lay scattered about the wagon.

"The man was a Varisian," Santon said without any preamble. "And this was his home."

Fudin crept into the wagon.

"Inventory, Fudin?" Nes asked.

"Ashes," he began by calling out.

Bree stifled a laugh. Obviously there were ashes!

"Broken bottles or potion vials, cracked crystal ball, several dozen pools of melted wax, Eloais' body. There is little else of interest."

Bree peered over his shoulder. A crisp skeleton with blackened skin rested in the middle of the wagon.

Santon stepped into the wagon and crouched low to the ground. "This was Eloais, all right. Young, middling build, good health, male. I don't see any wounds beyond that which a fire could cause."

Fudin nodded. "His position suggests he fell. He shows no signs of defending himself or pain. Perhaps he was overcome by heat or smoke?"

Bree furrowed her brow. Other than that this body was indeed Eloais, she couldn't tell a thing. She peered closer, but the corpse revealed nothing to her. She sighed. "So he wasn't attacked?"

Santon shook his head and stood up, stepping out of the wagon. "No. But, that doesn't mean he wasn't murdered."

Nes nodded. "Agreed. This fire would have had to spread unnaturally fast for him to be unaware of the danger. Of course, it was not magical in nature either."

"Sabotage?" Fudin enquired.

"Perhaps."

They fell quiet for a minute or so, lost in contemplation.

It was Nes who broke the silence. "Fudin, it is best you do not conduct any investigations. Your methods of interrogation are not conducive to long friendships. Scout the area for tracks."

Fudin nodded.

"Santon," Nes continued, "Speak to your mercenary companions."

Santon smiled. "Gladly."

"Woman," he said.

Bree scowled. "Excuse me?!"

"Consult the Pactmaster's Guards while I confer with the physician."

Bree shook her head. "Look, I don't know who you think you are, but I don't take orders from anyone, least of all a leaky keg like you." She clenched her hands into fists. "I'm going to talk to Trevvis, Kallien and Father Zastoran. You can do whatever you feel like, although I hope it has nothing to do with me."

Nes opened his mouth to speak, before closing it again. He shook his head and turned, walking off in the direction of Almah's tent and her red-armoured guards. "Peasants," he muttered under his breath.

The nerve!

Fudin pushed his way past her, out of the wagon. "You know not who you speak to." he said in a tight voice. "Mind your tongue, or I'll be forced to mind it for you."

"Your brother is rude."

"And you are a child. Think before you speak or you will find yourself with fewer allies each time your open your mouth."

"Why do you protect your brother?"

Fudin shook his head. "Do you foreigners know nothing of family? Of loyalty? He is my brother. I need no other reason."

She grumbled under her breath as Fudin began circling the wagon, blue eyes glued to the brown, sun-baked earth. With an frustrated sigh she stalked angrily across the camp.

She found Trevvis sitting upon a seat sized rock at the central firepit. Kallien sat beside him, quiet as always, while Father Zastoran stood behind him, bandaging his head. He appeared in much better health than when she last saw him.

Bree let out a sigh of relief. Lord Cailean had smiled upon him.

Father Zastoran was an old halfling from much further south than Katapesh. He had deeply tanned, sun wrinkled skin, a long white beard and a prominent nose. He seemed to have all hit wits about him, despite his age. His hands were steady, his eyes were clear and his tongue could cut as deeply as a blades. He wore a white robe with dark blue trim, and had a dark blue and red turban wrapped around his head. He wore sandals upon his large, hairy feet. He wore a chain around his neck from which dangled a symbol of a black and white mask. It was the holy symbol of his god, Nethys.

"May the All Seeing Eye watch over you," he said at her approach. Apparently he had good hearing for an old man.

"And may Cayden's favour find you, Father."

From behind him, Trevvis smiled. "Star Flower! You're all right."

"Of course. I was just tired. I'm not as used to channelling divine power as I would like. It overwhelmed me."

"It's too bad you don't have as much healing in your hands as Star Flower, Father," he teased. "If you have more magic in you I'd be as well healed as Kallien, here," he gestured to the woman beside him whom Bree had saved earlier. "Then I wouldn't have to wear these ugly bandages. How can I woo anyone looking like this?"

Bree laughed as Trevvis ran a calloused hand through his greasy hair.

"Well, if this is the thanks I receive for saving your life you can bet I won't bother next time," the priest replied with mock annoyance. "I'll leave you to tend to you own wounds the next time you come whining to me of ankheg attacks and scorpion venom. Besides, if you had not bumped your head on the lintel you wouldn't have been in this mess. Really, it's your own fault for being so clumsy."

Bree frowned. The wagon. Of course. "What do you know about Eloais?"

"He was a charlatan and a crook!"

Bree's jaw dropped. "A crook?"

The priest nodded. "We are in the Age of Omens, child. It is a time when not even the gods can know the future. So how could a foreigner with a pretty deck of cards do it?"

"So you think he cheated the Princess?"

"Yes, though not intentionally. He believed in his art."

"I see."

"Still, he was a cultured man, whatever his beliefs. Not a one of these others can discuss the poetry of Bellianais or the music of far-off Absalom. Eloais was well-travelled and intelligent. I will miss him."

"In Cayden's name. May his tankard be ever full." Bree prayed respectfully. "So you were friends with him, then?"

"I would say so, yes."

"Was anyone else his friend?"

"The Princess spent a great deal of time with him."

At this, Trevvis and Kallien exchanged furtive glances.

Father Zastoran seemed not to notice and continued. "She did seem quite fond of him, although she is better off without his attentions. Perhaps if they had spent as much time praying to the gods as they had playing cards this could have been avoided."

Bree nodded. Their professional rivalry did not surprise her. She had noticed as much in her short time here. "Were there any in the camp who may have wished to harm him?"

The priest's eyes widened in surprise. He scowled. "I wouldn't know about that."

Bree frowned. She had messed it up. "I beg your pardon, Father. I didn't mean to imply that you could have been aware of a plot against Eloais, but you struck me as a learned man. Surely you have some suspicions..?"

He seemed to relax under the compliment. He leaned forward, towards Bree and spoke quietly, looking somewhat troubled. "Dashki unsettles me. He has an obsession with the Princess, you know. It's disturbing to see a dog like him eyeing up a woman of her standing."

"So he was jealous of the time Eloais and Almah spent together?"

"Alone in his wagon or her tent," interjected Trevvis.

"Of course he is. Or, was, I should say. It's as plain as the nose upon my face!"

"And did you see him do anything to Eloais?"

"He never acted violently. Still, no one with healthy desires skulks around a pretty woman the way he does. Who knows what that scoundrel is capable of?"

"So you think he could have set the fire?"

"Of course he could have, but that doesn't mean he did. It could have been an accident. Eloais burnt many candles and his wagon was filled with flammable objects - books, cards, cushions, fabrics and the like. Still, Eloais was a careful man, and graceful. I can't imagine him accidentally setting his wagon aflame and not noticing."

"And the Princess did spend a lot of time with the seer," added Trevvis. "I, for one, can imagine Dashki's jealousy."

Bree frowned slightly. Trevvis seemed to go somewhat somber with his last statement. She eyed him curiously as she continued the conversation. "Did anyone see Dashki before the fire?"

Trevvis' eyes wandered slightly, almost imperceptibly to the right where, in the distance, Santon spoke with both Brotis and Yesper.

Bree fought back a wave of jealousy.

"I was reading a book here at the fire-pit - and nowhere near the astrologer's wagon - when I decided I was fed up with these roughians being so noisy." He gestured at Trevvis, Kallien, and the other mercenaries across the camp. "I stood up to return to my tent when the fire broke out."

Trevvis and Kallien nodded in agreement.

"I did not see Dashki here or anywhere about, either before or after the fire broke out, nor did I notice him helping to put it out," the priest continued.

"The old man is right," agreed Trevvis. "The cripple didn't like the card reader at all, and he wasn't in our company when the fire broke out. Kallien and I ran towards the wagon when the alarm was raised, but the door was stuck. When we did manage to pry it open the fire inside was already too hot."

Kallien made a few gestures with her hands which Trevvis watched intently. He nodded.

"Then smoke overcame Kallien, and I bumped my head on the way out. We could not rescue Eloais."

Bree paused. Trevvis was a strong man and should have had no trouble with a wagon door. "Stuck?"

Trevvis nodded.

Father Zastoran arched his eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't know Eloais had a lock on that garish wagon of his."

Trevvis shook his head and shared a look with Kallien. "Not barred, old man. Stuck." He raised his brown eyes and looked at Bree earnestly. "It was simply stuck, Star Flower. Jammed. I don't know why. Perhaps it had swollen or warped with the heat." He looked back down at the ground, as if embarrassed. "By the time I got in it was too late."

Bree patted him on the back. "You did all you could, Trevvis. No one would fault you."

"I just - " He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know."

"Did any of you see Dashki at all?"

"Bah! The dog was probably spying on Almah," Trevvis answered with a leer.

"And then decided to hide when the fire went out?" Father Zastoran chimed in. "He is not a fool. Perhaps he was on sentry duty?"

"It was not his turn," Trevvis reminded him.

"With the animals then?"

Bree looked around, towards the animal pickets. An older man and woman stood soothing and tending them. "I suppose I'll go ask the camel drivers about that. Thank you for your honesty."

Father Zastoran nodded curtly.

"Come back when you're done, Star Flower." Trevvis said with a smile.

For the first time in days Bree wondered at his sincerity. Who was it that he had once fawned for, Brotis or Yesper? Brotis was pretty and often flirted with many men, but Yesper was in a long time relationship with her comrade Dullen. Truthfully, it could be either of them. More importantly, was it done with, or would he still prefer to be in her company over Bree's?

"I will." she answered.

Was she nothing more than a distraction?

She shook her head as she approached the camel herders, as if it would force the thoughts to dissipate.

"Hello." Bree greeted with a bow.

The woman turned to her. She was a wiry, middle aged Kelish woman, although years of physical labour and exposure to the sun had definitely taken their toll upon her. Her name was Hadrah.

"We haven't been properly introduced, I'm - "

"Bree," the woman cut in. "Yes, dear. We've heard all about you! Come from the North, do you?"

Bree nodded. "Yes, but - "

"I've always had a soft spot for you Northerners! You have skin as smooth as a - "

"Newborn babies," the man finished. He was skinny, and bearded. He seemed friendly enough but looked rather sad. "You don't get much in the way of heat up there, do you?"

Bree shook her head. "No, we don't. We get lots of - "

"Well, we can't blame you for wilting like a flower at the first sign of heat, then can we, dear?" Hadrah commented with a laugh. "You're a - "

"Lucky one." Hadrod finished. "Most foreigners don't have much help from the locals in dealing with the climate. But Trevvis - "

"Oh, yes!" Hadrah cut in. "Trevvis seems to have taken quite a shining to you."

Bree blushed and the woman winked.

"Oh, no need to blush, dear, we've got a keener eye than most!" she continued. "We can't blame him, of course, what with your pretty hair and - "

"Exotic clothes." Hadrod finished. "Is that blouse made of Chelish cotton?"

Bree nodded. "Yes, but - "

"Chelish cotton? Really?!" Hadrah exclaimed. "We don't see much of that down here! Can I touch it? Oh, feel it, dear! It's so rough."

Bree stifled a laugh. Chelish cotton was among the worst in the world. It was all she could afford.

"I'll take your word for it, dear."

"Yes, well - " Bree cut in before being interrupted by Hadrah.

"And that nice golden hair of yours! We're happy to see some new faces of course, but yours is a welcome sight, indeed!"

"Thank you, but - "

It was Hadrod that cut her off this time. "And what strange eyes you - "

Bree frowned. She had had enough of this! "I need to know about Eloais!"

The camel herders stopped. They eyed her as if she were crazy.

"Well, get on with it then," Hadrah replied.

"You could have just asked," Hadrod added.

"Exactly what I was thinking, dear! She's a rude one, isn't she? Still, it seems to be the way of - "

"Foreigners. They're taught the barest of manners."

Bree scowled. "What do you know about Eloais?"

"Oh, Eloais! He's from one of those cold northern countries originally," Hadrah answered with a smile. "The same one as the Princess, but I can't seem to remember which one."

Hadrod's morose mood lifted slightly and he smiled.

"No, don't tell me, dead!" Hadrah exclaimed. "I know it! It's..."

"Varisia," Hadrod said with a smirk. "That's one point for me, dear."

"Oh, you cheater! I hadn't given up yet and - "

Bree rolled her eyes. Were they making a game of gossip? "The fortune teller," Bree prodded.

"Oh, Eloais. Right. Like I said he was a Varisian," Hadrah continued with a gloating glance at her husband. "He was nice enough, for a foreigner, I suppose. And handsome. It's little wonder the - "

"Princess spent so much time with him," Hadrod finished. "He was strange, though. We never understood much of his talk about - "

"Cyclones and fiends and uprisings and such."

"Cyclones?"

"Like I said," Hadrah replied. "We didn't understand."

Bree frowned. She hadn't said that, her husband had. "And did you like him?"

"Well, we never met him much. Not much - "

"Time, you see. We're busy with the animals. But, the Princess seemed to trust him, so he must have been a good man."

"Do you know anyone who would have wished him harm?" Bree asked.

At that Hadrah paused, looked about, leaned down and whispered. "We knew Dashki a bit from back Solku-way. Used to take rich folk into the scrublands to hunt up gnolls like trophies. Most people here don't trust him. Especially the way he leers at Lady Almah with his mouth all watering like at the smell of a fresh steak. Maybe he done it to Eloais, to remove a rival for Princess Almah's attention?" She straightened up and returned her voice to normal. "We were first to raise the - "

"Alarm for the fire. We smelled the smoke, screamed fire - "

"And then before we knew it the livestock were lose and running around everywhere!"

"And poor Rombard!" Hadrod moaned. "He's lost."

Hadrah nodded. "That's his favorite goat, you know. The poor kid's missing. We fear the - "

"Worst!"

Bree frowned as Hadrod burst into tears. "Yes. Well... I am sorry for your loss." She paused for a moment but Hadrod seemed like he wasn't about to stop anytime soon. She turned to Hadrah. "How did the animals get loose?"

"I'm not sure, exactly."

"You didn't see them escape?"

"Well, not as such, no. But they pulled their stakes up somehow and we had a heck of a time rounding them all up. It's a good thing the camels didn't get free too!"

"Wait," Bree said in confusion. "You mean the small animals managed to pull their stakes, but the camels didn't? How is that possible?"

"Well, the camels were a little further away from the wagon. And when it comes down to it they're less excitable, I suppose. Although, I did see a camel once who was afraid of his own shadow! You should have seen it he was - "

Bree rolled her eyes. "I should be going now," she cut in. "Good luck with your goat, Hadrod. May Cayden smile upon you."

"Northerners," Hadrah began as soon as Bree's back was turned. "So nosy, the lot of them, aren't they dear? And I couldn't get - "

"A word in edgewise," Hadrod sniffed.

Bree shook her head and headed off to find the others.

They sat together, talking in hushed tones by the water wagon.

"The mercenaries didn't see anyone set the fire," Santon said. He turned at her approach. "We were just getting started, Bree. Any news?"

"Trevvis said the fortune teller's door was stuck when they first tried to get in, but not barred."

Nes nodded. "I will check it for residual magic, to make sure it was no more serious than a heat-warped wooden frame." He stood up and set off to the wagon.

Bree continued. "Only the small animals managed to get free. I think someone might have let them loose on purpose. One of the goats is missing altogether."

"It could be that someone wanted to add to the chaos of the fire." Fudin added.

Santon nodded. "They would have had to have knowledge of the flames in advance to loose the animals so quickly. If we can find a suspect they'll know who set the fire."

"If anyone set the fire, you mean," Bree added.

"I did find some tracks nearby the wagon that seemed out of place, but nothing human sized. Animals, most likely, though none whose prints I recognized," Fudin confirmed.

"I can find no traces of magic," Nes said as he returned. "Of course, if the caster or their spell was of middling power, any traces of it could be faded by now."

He dusted a stray soot smear from his otherwise clean hands. "The Guards did not see anyone enter the wagon, or lurking around it."

"Has anyone found Dashki, yet?" Bree asked. "It seems he had a grudge against our poor fortune teller."

"I heard as much from the mercenaries," Santon agreed, "Though they didn't say why."

"Apparently he's rather fond of Almah."

"Ah!" Santon exclaimed. "Jealous of all the time our Varisian spent with the fair lady." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Intriguing."

Nes shook his head. "One of the guards said he say Dashki lurking around Princess Roveshki's tent. That would place him quite a ways away from the fire."

Santon smiled and placed a hand upon Nes' shoulder. "Best make sure, my friend. I'll speak to Dashki."

They nodded as Santon walked off to find the guide.

"Father Zastoran and the herders also suspected Dashki of ill intentions, but didn't see him around anywhere. If he did set the fire he would have had to be silent and quick."

"Yes," Nes agreed. "Although I find him disreputable, he does walk with a cane. I doubt his body would have held up for such a feat. Perhaps one of the guards is in league with him. If it was the one with the wagon in his view he would not have had to work in stealth."

"Garavel did seem to trust them completely, my brother." Fudin replied. "Best to wait for Santon to - "

A shout from across the camp cut him off. Bree, startled, dashed after the sound to find Santon and Dashki practically nose to nose.

"She's my woman!" Santon yelled before shoving the man.

Dashki growled in response. It was gutteral, almost... feral. A shiver ran up Bree's spine.

Santon growled back, gnashing his teeth and puffing up his chest. A crowd formed around them until, after a few tense minutes, Dashki bowed his head slightly, and seemed to crumple in on himself, deflating.

Santon straightened with pride. It was as if they were a pair of animals and Dashki had just admitted Santon's dominance over him.

Santon nodded, while Dashki growled to himself, then turned and walked to Bree.

"Cayden's codpiece, Santon!" she hissed. "What are you doing?"

Santon smiled a proud, boyish grin. "He wouldn't cooperate."

"So you picked a fight with him?"

"Just get him talking, would you, before he forgets his humiliation?"

Bree shook her head. She couldn't believe it. Santon was such a boy. Nevertheless, she took his advice and wandered over to Dashki with Nes and Fudin close behind.

Dashki had hobbled over to his tent while leaning heavily on his makeshift, wooden cane. He took a good deal of time for him to sit under it's shade. He wore dark clothing and bore both a curved dagger and sword on his hip. He was covered in months worth of dirt and smelt even worse than he looked. His clothes were tattered, his hair was matted and he looked more like a mangy beast then a man.

Bree approached him cautiously. "May we sit and talk with you?"

He shrugged. "Sit, woman, and be done with it."

"My name is Bree." she answered through tightly gritted teeth.

"Enough beggaring, woman. What do you want from me?"

"What do you know of Eloais?"

Dashki shrugged. "A northern fool. Nothing more."

"A fool? Why do you say that?"

"Bah! If he could tell the future, there would have been no need for me."

Bree nodded.

"I was hired by the Princess as a guide and tracker. I know these lands and I know the ways of their inhabitants. Why would she hire me if she had a man who could see everything she needed to know?"

"Almah seems like a nice lady," Bree lied. "How long have you known her?"

"A few months. She hired me in Solku. She had heard that gnolls occupied these lands and sought out a gnoll expert. She chose me. She is a... smart woman."

Bree raised an eyebrow. He seemed to be hiding lust and obsession for Almah, but sounded truthful about his skills.

Nes wrinkled his nose. "And how did you become so learned on the habits of those curs?"

"I studied them."

"What for?"

Dashki grunted. "Revenge, why else?"

Bree raised an eyebrow.

Dashki's eyes darted about. "They killed my mother and grandfather. They put fire to our village. Hundreds died. My father and I escaped." He sighed. "I have forgotten much of what I saw. Terrible things. But, I find its the sounds that stay with me. The shrill howls and barks - hundreds of them at once - that sounded deliriously close to an audience. Laughing at us."

Bree tried not to frown. There was a quiet aggression in Dashki's voice but also something else that she couldn't seem to put her finger on. Respect? Admiration? Perhaps. Loss, sadness, anger?

"My father raised me to know everything about the gnolls, their customs, their language. So as better track them down and wipe them out. All of them. Together we scouted out their lairs, studied their tribes, listened to them speak until we could understand what they were saying. They're not dumb animals, you know. Not like you might think. In some ways they're even smarter than us."

Nes raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure."

"Dad didn't survive out first raid on a gnoll camp. I saw them fall on him like hyenas on an abandoned kill, slathering themselves in his blood and innards. I can still hear the tear of his scalp and the sound of his bones against frenzied teeth. Against this scene I was forgotten. Ignored. I escaped, though not without injury, and I carry on the work of my father."

Bree nodded sadly. There was definitely pain in his voice when he spoke of his injury, but a look in his eyes seemed to suggest that it was more of an emotional pain than anything. That was a look that Bree knew well. Although he seemed guarded Bree was having an easier time reading him than the other members of the caravan. Was she getting better at this, or had Santon's display set him on edge?

"I share your goals, Dashki," Bree offered with pride. "I seek to wipe all those abominable creatures from the world, never to see them back again." She reached a hand to her copper tankard and smiled. "Lord Cailean willing, of course. But, that's why I'm here. To kill gnolls. As many as I can." She thought it best she leave her goals of abolishing slavery unstated.

Dashki stared at Bree for a moment before nodding once, slowly. He then turned his gaze to the brothers beside her.

"Yes, well, that's quite lovely," Nes said with disdain. "Now, tell me, how did the fire first come to your attention?"

"I was just finishing up my meal at the fire pit when the call went out."

Bree frowned. He was lying.

"I have seven witnesses who say you were not," Nes replied coldly. "Give me the truth this time."

Dashki growled. "I was out scouting for gnolls."

Fudin tensed. "I was on watch and did not see you."

"It is no concern of mine if you shirk your duties."

Fudin clenched his fists. "How far must you have wandered, to not be back in time to help?"

Dashki's tone grew fierce. "When the alarm was raised I came back, but I am not a fast walker. By the time I arrived it was taken care of."

"Did you find any tracks or signs of gnoll activity?" Bree asked, hoping to ease the tension around her.

"Gnolls?" Dashki snorted. "Unlikely. If a tribe were behind this we would be dead already. Or dying, at least."

"So who do you think set the wagon ablaze?"

Dashki grunted. "Set? How do we even know the fire was set? That idiot burned a hundred candles in his wagon. Perhaps he just got unlucky. We're in gnoll country. It was probably pugwampis."

"Pugwampis?" Nes repeated with a curled lip.

"Terrible critters what crawled up from the Darklands below the earth. Jackal rats, some folks call them, on account of their pointed little heads. They worship gnolls as gods and infest their communities like rats. Wherever pugwampis go, bad luck is sure to follow. The gnolls hate pugwampis because of it, and try to kill them all the time, but they always come back. Perhaps their bad luck caused the fortune-man's candles to start a fire? Yes, pugwampis. I am certain it was pugwampis."

"Pug... Wumpus?" Bree asked with a frown, tripping over the unfamiliar word.

"Jackal rats?" Nes asked, though even Bree could tell he thought the tracker was lying.

"Yes, yes. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, if one is about. They are small and stealthy, but their should still be some sign of their passage." Dashki moved to stand. "I will go look around the wagon and - "

"I have done so, already," Fudin interrupted.

"Are you sure? You could have missed something. I'd better go look."

"No need. I did see come strange tracks by the fortune teller's wagon." Fudin acknowledged slowly, as if he were cautious of buying into the tracker's tale. "They were small, close together. Almost like a mix between a child and a dog."

Dashki nodded. "That's them."

Nes wrinkled his nose in disgust and stood suddenly. "It was an honour to have met you, peasant." he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm before turning to Fudin. "Come, we have much to discuss."

Fudin stood at his words and turned, with little more than a nod to the crippled guide. Bree followed as well, although slower than the others.

"Thank you for your cooperation," she said earnestly before leaving. "Your goal is a noble one. May the Drunken Lord smile upon your endeavors."

Dashki stiffened, but made no other response.

Bree joined up with the others outside of Santon's tent.

"Finished with the cur?" Fudin asked as she approached.

Bree frowned. "If only." she said with a sigh. The corners of her lips tilted up slightly. "Though perhaps after this conversation I will be able to shed your brother's company."

Fudin tightened at her response. Coiled, like a snake ready to strike.

Nes turned bright red. "The gnoll hunter seems to be a natural suspect," he began, ignoring her remark, "primarily due to his charm and pleasantness towards others, I gather." He nodded his head at Bree. "A trait you obviously have in common. Unpleasantness aside, no one actually saw him do it, or can explain how he could have done it, especially with that injured leg."

Fudin nodded. "Yes, brother. Despite the outrageousness of his claims, he seemed sincere about the Jackal rats. The tracks I found could belong to such a creature."

Santon nodded. "I agree. I don't think our friend there could have started the fire. If he felt strongly enough about our dear Princess to kill for her, his response to my actions would have been much more violent. He would not have backed down so easily."

"Come," Nes put in after a moment. "Let us share our opinions with Princess Roveshki."

Almah sat within her tent, reclining on a pile of cushions. "What have each of you discovered of the fire?" she asked softly. "Was it arson? An accident? An attack?"

Nes shook his head. "No, Princess. Although some in camp may have had reason to dislike the fortune-teller, everyone is accounted for. However, there are some strange tracks we found by the wagon. We believe whatever made the tracks to be the culprit."

"Can you identify the tracks?"

"Fudin did not recognize them, Princess, but the tracker says they belong to pugwampis."

"Pug … wampis?" Almah frowned, tasting the unfamiliar word. She looked at Nes with a raised eyebrow. "What are they? How could they burn down Eloais' wagon?"

"If he can be trusted they are foul little creature from the depths below the earth who worship gnolls and bring bad luck wherever they go. If this is true than the passage of one of these creatures could have caused both the fire to start and the animals pickets to come loose."

"Are there other witnesses of this creature?"

"Just the tracks, Princess."

Almah sat for a moment in stunned silence. "If not for the tracks you say you have found, I would tell you that Dashki was lying."

"I am well versed in rooting out deception, Princess."

"Indeed." She looked at each of them in turn and stroked her cheek with a perfectly manicured fingernail. "If my expert is correct the hills around here should be crawling with these pugwampis, or at least some sign of their passage. It should be easy for him to find one and bring it back to me. As he is, however, our best suspect in this affair, it would not do to send him out into the darkness alone. I'm afraid that your investigation is not yet at and end. Go out into the desert with Dashki and find me one of these pugwampis."

Nes and Fudin bowed as one. "Yes, Princess Roveshki."

Santon nodded his head and smiled. "Of course, my lady."

But, it was not to any of the men before her that Almah turned to. Instead, she looked past them and locked eyes with Bree.

'And you?' she seemed to be asking.

Bree nodded her head once in response.

Almah smiled. "Perfect." she said. "Perfect."


	10. Chapter 9: Pugwampi

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Nine

Pugwampi

"I believe that we would have an easier time following the trail in the daylight rather than the dark. I suggest we begin at first light," Nes said. He eyed the setting sun with distaste.

Fudin shook his head. "The trail is fresh yet, my brother, and easy to follow. To wait until morning would make tracking difficult, especially in this terrain."

Bree nodded. "The culprit may get away by then. We can't allow that."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Santon agreed while tiredly rubbing his chin.

"So. How do we proceed?" Fudin asked the assembled group. "I have decent night-vision. But, do the rest of you need a light source?"

"Do we want to make it easier to track, or be more stealthy in our movements?" Santon asked. "Obviously any light we use will be a pretty big beacon to any who wish us harm out here. But, perhaps with both Fudin and Dashki leading the way we'll be fine without the light."

"That's a drunken preacher, if I've ever heard one." Bree said with a frown.

The others looked at her in confusion.

"A recipe for disaster," she explained, but they seemed no less confused. "A dangerous brew." Her frown deepened. They obviously didn't talk to many followers of the Drunken Lord. "I don't like the idea of traipsing through the wilds, unable to see."

Her comrades nodded, understanding dawning in their eyes, though Nes looked scandalized by her use of language. His collar was buttoned higher than a cloistered virgin's!

"No, torches." Dashki said as he stepped up behind them. He wore a scimitar and dagger sheathed at his side, as well as a surly look upon his face. Bree hadn't heard him approach. "Take them but do not light them," he continued. "They would only ruin what little night vision the rest of you have. The moon rides high in the sky this night. You will manage."

Fudin nodded. "I agree."

"Very well," Nes conceded. "Retrieve anything you may need for the journey. We set out shortly."

Bree walked across the camp to her tent. Trevvis sat beside it, waiting for her.

"Word is we're resting this eve." he said.

"You're resting. Almah wants a few of us to hunt down whatever lit the wagon on fire."

Trevvis raised an eyebrow. "Whatever?"

"We found strange tracks. It looks like some kind of small humanoid might have been the culprit."

"And so you're setting off to find it? Now?"

"If it did kill Eloais, we can't let it get away unpunished."

"You are right, Star Flower." Trevvis said with a nod and a sad looking smile. He paused for a few moments, watching Bree pick up her scimitar and buckle it onto her waist.

"Here," Trevvis stood and held up her buckler.

Bree stretched out her left arm and Trevvis strapped the small shield onto it for her.

"You never came back."

Bree frowned. "I was busy."

"And I was waiting."

"I'm sure you occupied yourself just fine."

"I would have rather been with you," Trevvis grumbled.

"There are others you would rather spend your time with," Bree responded with bitterness. His earlier longing gazes towards Brotis and Yesper had affected her more than she wished to admit.

"If there were, don't you think I would be with them?" he barked.

Bree's face turned red with anger. "Maybe you should be!"

"Maybe I will!"

Bree glared into his brown, angry eyes. He held her gaze intently and stood only a few inches from her. Every muscle in his body was tense. He looked as if he was going to strike her.

Bree contemplated backing up but decided against it. She was not afraid of him.

He lunged forward, grabbed Bree by the shoulders and pulling her closer to him.

"Let go of - "

Bree's protests were cut off as Trevvis pressed his lips to hers, smothering her outburst with a kiss. Bree felt her anger melt away. The tension left her muscles in an instant and was replaced by a sort of nervous, fluttering feeling. She had never been kissed before.

She turned her head down and pulled away a few inches. "Trevvis, I - "

"Quiet, Star Flower." He tilted her chin up to his kissed her roughly.

Bree's stomach clenched, filling her with apprehension and fear. It was as if he had opened a door into her that she had never known existed, and left it wide open. Before him, she was vulnerable. Her lips trembled slightly as the last rays of the sun plunged below the horizon.

His lips met hers with restrained fury. This time, she gave in, surrendering herself to his kiss. She pulled him closer, accepting him.

They were angry. Passionate.

Hungry for each other.

As Trevvis enveloped her with his arms the world seemed to fade away, leaving behind only the two of them. She ran her hands through his thick, greasy hair and pressed him closer to her.

He was all that mattered.

They were all that mattered.

Behind them a voice spoke angrily.

"It's time to go, woman."

Bree frowned as Trevvis pulled away from her. "Remind me to kill you later, Nes." Nes frowned. "If you're done? We're leaving."

Trevvis looked into Bree's mismatched eyes. "Make sure you come back, Star Flower."

Bree nodded as she pulled away from him. "I will." She reached down, grabbed the last of her gear and turned towards the outskirts of camp.

"You said that last time."

"And I mean it this time."

Trevvis looked skeptical.

"By the light of the Starstone," Bree promised, "I'll come back."

It was the most solemn vow she could give. The Starstone was a magical stone within a chapel in the city at the center of the world that granted one godhood. If you could reach it, of course. The trials guarding it were both dangerous, and ever changing. The test of the Starstone was different for everyone, but deadly for all. Only a few had ascended through it and her god, Cayden Cailean, was one of them. To his followers it was a holy object.

Trevvis' eyes widened, and then he nodded. He understood it's importance.

Bree turned and walked out of the camp.

It was cold without him.

* * *

Dashki was right. By the time they set out it was night, but the full moon and stars in the clear sky made it relatively bright. Fudin crouched low to the earth, seeming to stare at the tracks and the darkness. Bree frowned. She didn't see a thing.

Fudin grinned in accomplishment just as Dashki managed to kneel down beside him with the assistance of his stick to examine the tracks himself.

"This way." Fudin said as he headed off into the night.

Behind him, Dashki cursed foully, hauled himself back to his feet and hobbled after Fudin.

Bree sighed and cast one final, longing glance behind her, at the camp.

She would be back.

The rocky uplands were rather spooky away from the warmth and activity of the campsite. The quiet stillness of the night was broken here and there by sudden scuttling sounds and cries, but it always turned out be innocent things: clattering rocks, wind in the underbrush, a bird's call. Shapes loomed out of the shadowy darkness. Craggy rocks, a dead tree. Once or twice Bree even thought she saw a man, but both times it turned out to be a lone cactus.

The trail that Fudin followed led deeper into the hills, winding through valleys and small canyons between peaks and hillocks. The ruggedness of the land increased as they went. Rocks seemed to place themselves just to trip feet, and spiny cactus growths caught at their sleeves and robes.

The shadows amongst the hills were longer and darker and while Fudin and Dashki seemed to be able to follow their trail with ease, soon everyone else was stumbling about, treading on sharp rocks, brushing against cactus growths and almost tumbling into crevices.

The going was slow, to say the least.

Maybe going without light was a poor idea...

"Tipped tankard!" Bree cursed loudly as he stubbed her foot into another rock. Her sudden stop caused Nes to bump into her, knocking her to the rough, sharp ground. Nes toppled on top of her in an ungraceful heap.

Bree pushed him off of her with a heave, sending him tumbling into a nearby pile of dried out animal spoor. He screamed in protest.

"Can you tell if we are close, Fudin?" Bree growled from the ground near the back of the line.

"I cannot imagine that a creature as tiny as these tracks suggest could have dragged a recalcitrant goat much further than this..."

Nes struggled to his feet and brushed the offal from his robes. "Disgusting."

"I've had enough," Santon groaned. "Where's my torch?"

Dashki sighed and hurried ahead a few paces. "If you need light then stand back, I do not wish to ruin my night vision."

Bree frowned. Dashki hadn't seemed bothered by his limp in the least.

Fudin nodded, agreeing with Dashki, as Nes continued.

Nes nodded. "Allow me." He began moving his hands in a series of strange positions. "Firium al Washim!" Nes shouted after a few more seconds, causing a small ball of roaring flame to spring to being in his palm.

The soft light emanating from Nes' spell certainly made finding solid footing in this treacherous terrain easier. Dashki, however, was proved right once again. The shadows beyond the radius of light appeared blacker and more full of menace, whilst Fudin and Dashki, who both remained outside of the flame's glow, were little more than inky, dark blots against the night.

Bree couldn't see a thing outside of the flames light. She shrugged. At least she could see her feet.

They followed the dark figures of Fudin and Dashki deeper into the hills for another hundred yards or so.

Bree shuddered as a sudden, inexplicable feeling of tension overcame her. Her comrades stopped in their tracks. Bree eyed the bushes and cacti around her. Seconds passed. Then a minute. She saw no signs of danger or movement, but couldn't shake her foreboding. She felt as if something terrible was about to happen.

An eerie cry, like that of a child in distress, shattered the silence. Bree took off at a run toward the sound.

Fudin stood before a thick wall of tall cacti. "It's coming from within!"

Dashki prodded the cacti with his walking stick. "It it too dangerous. With a pugwampi so near even these cacti could be the end of us."

"You sober coward!" Bree shrieked. Dangerous or not, she couldn't do nothing! She drew her thin sword and swung it before her, slicing off an arm of the cactus before her.

"Too slow!" Santon shouted. He barreled headlong into the cacti. His cries and curses as he pushed his way through made Bree's muscles twitch in agitation.

She swung again at the cactus in front of her, hacking off another of its limbs.

Fudin crouched low to the ground and crept forward through the cactus bushes.

Nes stepped forward regally. He folded his sleeves up revealing his thin hands. He began to move his hands in a series of strange positions again, before stepping forward and tripping on his own robes. He tumbled to the ground in an undignified heap, robes up over his head and legs splayed beneath him.

Bree swung again at the cactus, finally making a little headway forward.

A scream tore through the night, followed by a manic yipping sound. Santon let out a cry of pain, followed by Fudin.

"Foul brew!" This was taking too long! "May your luck find me, my lord," she prayed as she raised her buckler before her face, took a deep breath and pushed her way into the wall of cacti. Long spines pierced her flesh. They cut through the gaps in her armor and clothing with unnatural accuracy.

"Froth and foam!" she shouted, cursing her luck as she pushed her way forward.

A few moments later she burst out into a twenty foot clearing, looking like a seamstress' pincushion. Blood streamed down her arms from a myriad of cuts and scrapes. The cactus spines had pierced her skin like a blade.

Across the clearing a goat was tied to a post near a steep ledge. It screamed in terror. Issuing forth from a rock beside him was an insane giggling. Santon lay upon the ground with his arm somehow tangled in his belt, perhaps a result of trying to draw the bastard sword upon his back.

Fudin, as covered in spines as Bree herself, despite his apparent caution, opened his mouth and let out a great roar. He stepped forward, causing his linen pants to droop down, tripping him. As he fell a jagged line of crackling lightning poured from his open mouth, striking the cacti on the other side of the clearing.

Bree jumped, caught of guard by the strange display. "Sweet barleybrew!" She exclaimed. She stepped forward, tripped on her own bootlace and fell to the ground.

Santon stood with a great roar and tore his belt and shirt off, revealing his incredibly muscular chest and abdomen. His scabbard fell to the ground at his side. He bent down, cautiously pulled the blade from it's sheath and grinned.

Bree followed suit, slowly getting to her feet as the goat tugged frantically at it's bonds.

Santon raised his sword high above his head. Sweat beaded upon his brow and hands as he plunged his blade down behind the rock. The blade slipped from his grasp and a hideously ugly little creature no more than a foot tall burst out from behind the rock with a laugh. It looked at Santon with milky, white eyes and brandished a jagged, oversized dagger before it with murderous intent. The thing looked as if the ugliest lapdog in the world had thrown on a ragged piece of cloth and somehow managed to walk on two legs.

The ugly little beast leapt forward and plunged its dirty blade deep into Santon's flesh. He screamed and kicked out at the creature, sending himself hurtling to the ground with the motion. The creature yipped and growled in glee.

"Hey!" Bree yelled at it as she stepped forward. She moved her sword before her menacingly, but slowly, hoping to keep her grip on it.

The creature raised his empty hand before him then clenched it tightly into a fist.

Bree's shield let out a great cracking sound and shattered. It fell around her in pieces.

"What the - " Bree began, looking at her shield arm curiously as the creature lunged at her. She stepped to the side, stumbled on a loose rock and fell to the ground. The creature jumped into the air, dagger before it like a spear, plummeting down towards Bree's head.

She struggled to raise her arms but they had become caught beneath her. What a dirty glass she had gotten herself into! She closed her eyes as the vicious creature and his dagger neared. If this is what her death looked like, she most certainly didn't want to see it. How ridiculous!

A roar sounded above her as a wave of searing heat passed by, inches from her face. A tormented howl of pain made her ears pop.

She opened her eyes.

Nes stood above her, completely naked, with a ruby-tipped, wooden stick carved in a series of complex, swirling designs held proudly in his hand. It glowed brilliantly.

She blushed and turned her head to the side.

The screaming pugwampi was jumping up and down, sheathed in brilliant red flames. His fur let off a horrid stench as it burnt off of his body.

Santon picked up the creature's rusted little dagger and plunged it into its back.

It let out a gurgled cry and slunk to the ground in a heap.

Nes stepped over her to the little beast and waved his hands once to the side. The magical flames snuffed themselves out leaving the clearing in total darkness.

"Firium al Washim!" Nes shouted, causing a small ball of flame to appear in his hands once again. He walked imperiously past Bree, despite his nudity, to the cactus thicket where his elaborate silk robes hung tangled and torn amidst their spines.

Santon offered Bree an open hand. She took it, and he helped pull her to her feet.

"Don't let Nes ruin it for you." He tilted his head towards their skinny, frail looking comrade. "We don't all look like that." He winked.

Bree smiled and let the tension seep out of her.

Santon, still holding her hand glanced down as his bare chest. "I could show you more later, if you like."

Bree furrowed her brow in disgust. Cayden's codpiece, Santon was shameless!

Santon let out a deep, joyous laugh before reaching out to Bree's forehead. She flinched, but didn't withdraw. Delicately, he pulled a cactus spine from her forehead and dropped it to the ground. "I imagine Trevvis has that well in hand."

"I don't need your help."

Santon simply smiled and turned to collect his gear.

Bree raised a hand to her head. "Sweet barleybrew!" At least a dozen other spines jutted from her brow alone! She reached for one and pricked her finger. Perhaps she could use some help... She glanced around the clearing.

Fudin and his still naked brother stood behind her, prying Nes' robes from the thicket. Dashki stood to her left, filthy, but free of spines. He crouched on the ground, without the aid of his cane, and picked up the burnt corpse of the pugwampi. He pulled a cord from one of his pockets and looped it around the creature's neck like a miniature noose then tied its other end onto the top of his staff. He stood with ease and locked eyes with Bree. He leered at her with a hungry, almost predatory gaze. She shuddered and he licked his lips.

Santon stood before the goat - Rombard presumably - and patted it gently.

Bree raised another hand to her forehead. She pricked her finger again, but managed to pull a single spine from her head. She huffed once, swallowed her pride and walked up to Santon with determination.

He smiled at her approach.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but he shook his head, grabbed her hand, and placed it upon the goat. It shook with fear. "Soothe him." Santon said before reaching up without another word to begin pulling the spines from her skin.

She patted the goat gently. "There, there."

Rombard shivered at her touch.

Santon removed another spine with practiced ease.

Bree smiled. Perhaps he wasn't so bad.

"I have something else for you to stroke." he said.

Bree froze. Perhaps not.

Santon let out a deep laugh at her response. "Relax, Bree. You know, for a follower of the Drunken God you're quite uptight."

She frowned.

"You don't need a whole bar to have a party," he continued with a wink. "Two can party just as well. Better even."

"You're ridiculous." Bree muttered as she continued to pat the goat.

Santon laughed. "You'll see."

Bree thoughts drifted to Trevvis. She flushed.

Perhaps she would.


	11. Chapter 10: Negotiations

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Ten

Negotiations

Dashki stood before Almah and held out his staff with reverence. The crispy corpse of the pugwampi dangled from it grotesquely. Almah eyed it with poorly hidden disgust. Behind them, all four of her red-armoured guards stood coiled, ready to pounce upon Dashki at a moments notice. Their distrust of the filthy tracker was obvious. The tension in the air was palpable.

Almah plastered a tight, forced smile upon her face, swallowing down rising bile as she did.

Bree smiled. Not the evidence she had hoped for? The woman got drunk on water.

"And they are solitary creatures?" Almah asked.

Dashki shook his head. "They live in packs, Princess."

"I... thank you for your service, Dashki." she said politely. She nodded at him, and then her guards. "You may go."

Dashki puffed up his chest at her compliment then smiled triumphantly at Santon. The guards straightened and followed Dashki out of the tent.

Almah waved a hand before her face, wafting the smell of burnt flesh, filth and sweat around the room. "As there may be more of those... creatures about I have a further task for you."

Bree wasn't sure if she was talking about Dashki or the pugwampi.

"The Sultan's Claw is obviously too exposed a location to use as a base of operations against Kelmarane. There is an old monastery nearby that should serve our purposes well. It is a half days walk away. I had hoped to avoid it, as it is likely occupied in some fashion by the more feral denizens of the region." She eyed each of them in turn. "Travel to the monastery and prepare it for our arrival. Clear out any dangerous inhabitants you might find. We will arrive there two days hence."

Nes nodded and stepped forward but Santon shook his head.

"Sorry, my lady," he said with a sigh. "I would love to aid you in this endeavor, but we were hired as guards, not scouts and thugs."

Bree's jaw dropped. She had never seen Santon speak against an attractive woman before, least of all Almah!

Almah's mouth tightened slightly. "I am willing to renegotiate the terms of our contract, of course."

Santon nodded. "Of course."

"I could offer you two hundred scarabs each, for this task."

Bree furrowed her brow. Scarabs? Why would they get paid in scarabs? She racked her brain, trying to remember the desert currency. Scarabs were... gold pieces? She was offering them two hundred dollars each?

Santon shook his head. He looked offended. "Absolutely not! Is this all our lives are worth? This task is certainly dangerous!"

"I could offer you four hundred scarabs a piece. No more."

"We have no guide! I would not do it for less than a hundred genies!"

A genie? Those were... silver? No, that made no sense. Why would Santon barter lower? It had to be platinum. That made it a thousand dollars a piece! Was he serious?

Almah sputtered. "Surely you jest! I could buy your lives for as much!"

"You are! For this task will surely claim it, unequipped as we are."

"Four hundred and fifty scarabs each, and not a grain more!"

Bree frowned. She was pretty sure a grain was a copper piece, which they called a penny back home, but that meant they used penny to mean a silver piece here... Perhaps a grain was a silver piece, then? Froth and foam, she couldn't keep up! She hated Katapesh.

Santon shook his head. "Five hundred scarabs a piece plus gear, and you have yourself a monastery."

Almah nodded once. "Agreed."

Santon clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "We're in business then, my lady. That is, if my companions choose to accept your offer."

"It sounds acceptable," Nes said stoically.

Bree was dumbfounded. They were bartering over doing a good deed as if it were a cow. She didn't understand these people at all!

"Excellent." Almah said. "Father Zastoran has a rather large supply of potions you may each choose a pair from, while the mercenaries have a small array of weapons and armour for sale amidst their possessions. Inform them each that Garavel will handle the payment on your behalf. You may leave now, or first thing in the morning."

"We are tired." Nes began.

"It will be cooler now, than in the morning." Santon pointed out.

Bree frowned. "I'm not leaving until morning."

Santon turned to her and smiled. "Make sure you get some rest before morning, Bree." He winked.

Bree blushed. "Worry about yourself, Santon."

"Yes, I'm sure Trevvis will take care with you." Santon opened his mouth in mock shock. "Of you, I meant, of course. Of you."

Bree glared at him, pushed her way out of the tent and returned to her camp. Trevvis lay under her makeshift tent, half hidden in the dark.

"You came," he said as she approached.

Bree smiled. "Of course."

"You didn't last time."

She frowned. He made her blood boil! "You're waiting at my tent, Trevvis. I couldn't avoid you if I tried."

He eyed her in the dark. Behind her, her comrades exited Almah's tent. Santon laughed loudly before passing by, far closer than necessary, to where Trevvis sat and Bree stood.

Santon met their gaze as if surprised to find them together. "Careful with her, Trevvis!" he called. "I have need of her come morning."

"Go away, Santon," Bree responded with a call over her shoulder. "Or my blade will have need of you tonight."

Santon laughed.

Trevvis fumed. "I can think of a few ways you could have stayed away, Star Flower." He nodded in Santon's direction, and then in Dashki's. "And obviously they can, too."

"I'm not a whore who ploughs a furrow with every man to walk by!"

"I worried." Trevvis continued, ignoring her outburst. "It can be dangerous out here, at night."

The frown slipped from her face and she smiled softly. She sat down beside him. "I wanted to come back to you and so I did."

Trevvis placed a hand upon her head. "Star Flower, what happened?" he exclaimed. "You're covered with more spots than there are stars above us!"

Bree blushed. "Oh, tipped tankard!" She brushed her hair over her face self-consciously. "I may have had an accident in a patch of cacti."

"You may have?" He pushed the hair out of her face.

"Maybe."

He laughed, wrapped his arm around her and pulling her close. "Well, maybe you're beautiful."

"Maybe?" Bree asked angrily.

"And maybe I'm glad to see you."

Bree frowned and pushed him onto the dry earth.

He chuckled and pulled Bree down beside him. "Maybe, it's as certain as there was more than one accident."

She laughed as she lay down next to him. "I have to go on a task for Almah come first light." she said with sadness.

"Best make the best of the darkness then, Star Flower."

With a nervous feeling in her stomach and shaking hands Bree inched herself closer to Trevvis. She looked into his dark eyes. "Perhaps."

He looked up at her and smiled. "Perhaps?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Definitely."

She inched a little closer, pressed her side up against his and leaned over top of him. "And how would I go about that?"

Trevvis smiled and raised a hand up to stroke the side of her face. "I'd start by not being such a tease."

Bree frowned and slapped him in the chest. Trevvis laughed. Bree moved to get up but he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her down to him. Her heart skipped a beat at the touch.

He rolled over her and leaned down, placing a rough kiss upon her lips. She kissed him back deeply.

He pulled back then, smiling down at her, surrounded by a nimbus of stars. She lay in the dirt, clothed in filthy armor, covered in dust, sweat and dried blood, bathed in the moonlight.

"You're beautiful."

"Who's the tease now?" she asked.

He smiled.

She reached her hands up to his face and pulled him down to her. She kissed him frantically. His hand brushed against the copper tankard at her hip.

_Cayden Cailean, my Lord,_ She prayed in response. _Let it be a long night._


	12. Chapter 11: Omens

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Eleven

Omens

Fudin awoke to the sound of rustling parchment and his brothers soft droning. The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon. Its red glow bathed the earth around him in a blood red hue.

Beside him, Nes sat cross legged on his padded bedding, with his spellbook in his lap. It was a red leather affair, embellished with a golden spine, lock and corners. It's yellow pages were covered in orange lettering and symbols - his brother's arcane knowledge transferred to the page. Fudin couldn't read the spells as his brother could, nor did he have even a basic understanding of the arcane energies flowing through the world. He had never been as intelligent as his brother.

The dedication it took, however, to harness the energies of the world itself and force them to do ones bidding through the spoken word and sheer force of will, he did understand.

A year ago, not long before Nes and Fudin had set off on their coming of age journey, he had stumbled upon an oasis that was marked on no map. Its crystal clear waters had sparkled in the midday sun, welcoming him. He had neared the waters in awe, surrounded by lush foliage and rare, exotic flowers.

It had called to him.

In the pool bathed three of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes upon. They lounged naked in the pristine waters, laughing and singing joyfully. Each was as different as the last, alike only in their unearthly beauty. The sight of them ensnared him, like a fly in a spiders web, and he was powerless to resist.

He approached them without thought, as if he were in a dream. They greeted him and beckoned him join them in their pool. He had stripped off his fine, silk robes, tossed them upon the sand and come at their call. They hugged him as he drew near, placing their perfect, red lips upon his sun baked flesh. He reveled in their attentions, grew needy.

And then _he_ appeared.

Tezzen.

A massive dragon, tall as a palace, covered in brilliant azure scales, raised his horned head and spoke. His wings were missing, torn off in a long forgotten battle, but his sheer presence was no less terrifying for their lack. His voice shook the earth and caused blood to seep from Fudin's ears. Fudin had not seen him arrive.

"Who are you?" the dragon had asked.

Fudin had shook with fear. Blues were among the most cruel of the dragon race.

"He is worthy," one of the women had answered.

"We like him," said the second.

"We have chosen him," said the third.

"Have you?" the dragon mused. He narrowed his slitted eyes, each nearly as big as Fudin himself, and craned his long neck closer. He exhaled once, causing the waters to churn with crashing waves. "The Neraphim have chosen you, human."

Fudin cowered, unable to meet the dragons eyes.

"Perhaps, now, you regret heeding their call?"

Beside him the women, the Neraphim, rubbed his back and sides. Their fingers gracefully teased their way lower. Slowly, Fudin's tongue began to move. He spoke clumsily. "I... do not regret..."

The dragon curled up a corner of his mouth. "No?"

Fudin froze again, but shook his head. "No."

The dragon laughed, a hissing, frightening sound that set Fudin's hairs on end. "I am Tezzen. I am aged, and will not live much longer in this world. A few more decades, at best. My kin covet my knowledge, but it is not upon them whom I will bestow it. I seek a successor to my powers. A _human_ successor, that he will change the very world with the gifts that I have given, and carve my name across the earth itself in thanks. All will know that I have done this, through him. They will know that all that is, was only done, because I willed it so. All will know that Tezzen has changed the world." He eyed Fudin with disdain. "Think you he, human? The Neraphim think you worthy and, though nymphs are hardly the most knowledgable of creatures, if they know one thing, it is _men_."

The women beside Fudin giggled at the dragons words.

"Oh, we know men," one of them said with a sigh.

"We would know _this_ man further," added the second.

"Much further," finished the third.

They pawed at his skin, and his body responded instinctively to their touch. But, Fudin did not look at them. He could not. He looked instead at the dragon.

Tezzen could end his life at a whim. Fudin was entranced by him. By his power.

"I am worthy." he answered after a few moments.

The dragon smiled.

Fudin's life would never be the same.

Tezzen bestowed his knowledge and powers unto Fudin, but the might of a dragon could not be contained within the body of a man. It overwhelmed him. It remade his entire being and then, through him, remade his entire world. His senses grew keener, his body stronger, his skin tougher, and his mind sharper. Blue scales burst forth from his skin, and his eyes grew slitted, turning azure as the sky. Fudin was no longer human. He was somehow, something _more_. Not yet a dragon, but neither a mere man.

He had stayed at the Oasis, luxuriating in the attentions of the Neraphim by night, and learning to harness his awakening draconic powers with Tezzen by day. At times Tezzen would grant Fudin a fraction more of his powers, and it would overwhelm him, causing him to black out. Always, he awoke stronger, wiser and more powerful than before.

He vowed then, to give Tezzen and the Neraphim all of his worldly possessions, and all those he acquired in the future, in exchange for the gifts they had bestowed upon him. He would live a life filled only with the touch of the Neraphim, and the powers of Tezzen. Forever.

Eventually, Tezzen sent Fudin from the oasis, more powerful than he had ever dreamed he could be, with nothing but a scrap of linen about his waist.

When he returned home, no more than a day had passed, but everything had changed. He viewed the world with new eyes and each night hence he walked through the deserts, alone, and was welcomed by the familiar sight of the Neraphim's oasis. No matter where he was, no matter how far from home, they were always a mere hour walk away. It was a blessing. Magic.

Fudin smiled. He understood dedication, all right. He also understood luck.

Beside him, his brother stopped his droning.

"Huh," Nes mused aloud.

"What is it, brother?"

Nes turned his gaze from his book and held up a card, much like the ones from the fortune tellers wagon, that had somehow become folded between the pages of his spell book. It was singed around it's edges, and bore the image of two men seated at a table piled high with coins and treasures, each wearing a crow-like mask upon their faces. A human sized crow stood behind them, leaning over their goods. In the bottom left corner of the card was a small image of a key.

"It shares some iconography with the arcane symbols for loss and death."

Fudin frowned, cautious.

Nes' eyes went wide and he let out a terrified gasp.

Fudin jumped to his feet and leapt over to where his brother sat.

"My spells!" Nes shouted in fear.

"What is it brother?" Fudin eyed the spell book in his brother's lap. The pages were burnt and illegible.

"All my studies and work, wrecked with - " Nes flipped to the next page, but found it undamaged. He flipped through a few more pages and then sighed before looking up at Fudin with relief. "It is only the one spell that was destroyed, and a useless one at that! I have ever hated transmutations!"

Fudin groaned. He thought something terrible had happened!

His brother droned on. "What need have I of a spell that would alter you or I? Are we not perfect specimens as it is?"

Fudin eyed the sky, blood red with the breaking dawn, and frowned. He looked at the card again. Death. Loss.

Were the crows circling them even now?

Who was it they would claim?


	13. Chapter 12: Thanks

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Twelve

Thanks

Bree stood, silhouetted by the dawn. Her blonde hair hung about her like fire and her skin already glistened with sweat from the heat. Before her, laying topless on the dry earth, was Trevvis. He looked up at her and smiled.

Bree slid her scimitar into its scabbard and looped it onto her belt. She searched her tent for her buckler but remembered it was broken. Damned, pugwampi!

"What's wrong, Star Flower?"

"My buckler broke yesterday."

Trevvis laughed. "I have another. It was for sale, but perhaps I'll offer you a discount. For you, only four kisses."

"Save it, Trevvis, Garavel will pay for me."

"I think I'll charge him in coin."

Bree laughed. She looked at Trevvis in satisfaction. Life was good. Truly, Cayden Caildean smiled upon her.

Trevvis smiled back then slowly rose to his feet. "I'll get it for you."

Bree shook her head. "I'll come with you. There's nothing else I need."

"Other than me, you mean?"

"Other than a buckler."

Trevvis smiled as they neared his camp.

Santon lay in Trevvis' bed roll, with Kallien and Brotis both resting their heads upon his chest. All three of them appeared naked. Utarchus sat by the nearby fire, sharpening his falchion, while Dullen and Yesper still slept in their shared tent.

Santon smiled at their approach. "Just keeping them warm for you, Trevvis." He winked.

Trevvis laughed. "You can keep them."

Brotis pursed her full lips and pouted. She eyed Bree angrily. "Good morning, Poison," she said. "I had hoped you'd be gone by the time I woke."

Bree frowned. Poison?

Santon stroked Brotis' back. "Careful, Brotis. Your claws are showing."

She smiled, in a self satisfied kind of way and stood up, completely naked before walking around Bree and Trevvis. She was thin and muscular, with curves in all the right places. Bree frowned.

Trevvis, for his part, seemed to be trying to ignore Brotis while he dug through his pack for an extra shield. It seemed to be a difficult task, as he kept tilting his head up slightly, before shaking his head and turning it down, again, only to fumble with his bag.

"I don't know what you see in her, Trevvis." Brotis sighed.

Santon rolled out of bed, alongside Kallien and slipped on his clothes. Bree diverted her eyes and Santon laughed.

"Still not interested, Bree? I'm sure I could give old Trevvis here a run for his money."

Trevvis frowned and stood, placing his buckler in Bree's hands. "Here, Star Flower."

"Don't let them upset you, Bree." Utarchus said from his place beside the fire. "Brotis is just scared of you."

Brotis scoffed and Santon laughed.

"Come on, Star Flower." Trevvis said with a frown. "We have no need of _her_ company." he nodded at Brotis, followed by Santon, "or _his_."

Brotis smiled. "Only want of it."

Bree frowned, but turned and walked away with Trevvis towards the outskirts of camp. Footsteps followed them.

As Bree neared Nes and Fudin at their meeting spot, she paused and turned to Trevvis. "I'll... see you soon, I guess."

Behind him stood Santon, with his arm around Kallien's waist.

Trevvis nodded. "Come back to me, Star Flower."

"Be free when I do." She glanced back at the camp behind them and frowned. "And all the while I'm gone."

Trevvis frowned. "You don't trust me?"

"I don't trust _her_."

Kallien moved her hands in strange patterns, but Bree shook her head. "I am sorry, Kallien. But, I don't understand."

Trevvis turned and watched Kallien for a moment. "She says that Brotis is worried you will take me away. That Brotis is jealous. She says that I am trustworthy."

Bree laughed. "Does she?"

Kallien nodded.

Trevvis smiled. "She also says I am the most handsome man in the world, and you should give me many kisses goodbye."

Kallien frowned.

Bree smiled. "Oh, she does?"

"Of course," Trevvis replied. He wrapped Bree in his arms and placed a kiss on her brow. "Don't you trust me?"

Bree laughed and buried her face in his chest. "Sometimes you should really just shut your mouth."

Trevvis laughed, and kissed her once more in farewell. Kallien moved her hands again, in a series of gestures.

"She says thank you," Trevvis explained. "for saving her life."

Bree smiled at Kallien. "It was my pleasure. You are a good woman," she said honestly. She nodded at Santon. "Despite your taste in men."

Kallien smiled then moved her hands again.

Bree waited for a translation, but Trevvis said nothing. Kallien looked at him and made a series of gestures. He frowned and gestured back.

"What?" Bree asked.

Kallien gestured again, harshly and Trevvis frowned. "I'm not saying that Kallien!"

She gestured again sternly, then began shaking her fist at Trevvis.

Bree was pretty sure she understood that last bit...

"All right!" Trevvis looked to Bree. "She also says to thank you for saving me. She says I was in a bad place before you came and thinks Sarenrae sent you here to save me. To bring me back to the light, or some nonsense."

Kallien nodded.

Bree paused, heart warmed, but unsure of what to say. Did she really mean that much to Trevvis? To Kallien? She wasn't sure.

Trevvis frowned. "_I_ say she is far too nosy for her own good."

"Thank you, Kallien."

Santon smiled and clapped Trevvis on the back. "I'll take good care of her, Trevvis, my friend. You'll see."

Trevvis frowned at him with suspicion. "You just keep your hands to yourself."

Santon laughed. He grabbed Bree by the shoulders and turned her to the brothers waiting for them in the distance. "Come on, Bree. We're late as it is."

Bree nodded and let herself be guided away.

"Besides, come tomorrow, I'll have shown you such a good time, you won't even remember Trevvis' name."

Bree frowned and pushed Santon off of her, sending him sprawling a few steps to the right. "Watch your tongue, Santon. I'm not that kind of girl."

Santon laughed and followed her. "I'm not sure quite what you were thinking, Bree, but I thought we'd go kill some stuff before collapsing in an exhausted heap in some dirty, dusty monastery."

"You did not!"

"I did! But, I'm pretty sure whatever you were thinking would be much more enjoyable. Let's do that instead."

Bree scowled. "I think not."

"So you _were_ thinking of something dirty, then? How delightful!"

Bree shook her head as she and Santon reached the Sahadine brothers. Santon was hopeless.

"You're late." Fudin noted.

"Bree and I were just enjoying the company of the locals."

Nes frowned. "I'm sure." he said with distaste from atop his camel.

They set off without another word into the distance. Bree looked back, one last time. Trevvis stood alone, on the outskirts of camp. She waved at him and he waved back. Bree smiled. She would see him again. Nothing would change.


	14. Chapter 13: King Mokknokk

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Thirteen

King Mokknokk

They travelled for over an hour in the morning sun. Fudin led the way, carefully scouting the path ahead, pointing out the best trails, and keeping his eyes turned to the horizon. Nes followed closely behind him, mounted upon his spoiled camel, Reginald. A parasol shaded him from the sun. The heat didn't seem to bother them. Bree couldn't see a bead of sweat between the three. Behind Nes walked Santon. He chatted happily with her the entire way, commenting on their surroundings, gossiping about their fellow travelers, and mocking the Sahadine brothers. Though he glistened with sweat, he seemed used to it, and paid the heat no mind. Bree on the other hand, did. The sun was nowhere near its apex and she was baking. Her hair was matted with sweat, her clothes were soaked, and she already had a headache from the heat. How could anyone live in this blasted heat? It was killing her!

When Fudin finally raised a hand, signaling them to stop, she was overjoyed. When he spoke quietly, telling them the monastery should be just over the last ridge, she almost swooned. "Thank the Drunken Lord!"

"Well," Santon said nonchalantly, "what are we waiting for?"

Nes shook his head. "We should plan the best - "

"No." Bree cut in. "I need to get out of the sun. Let's just go."

Fudin shook his head. "You don't know what dangers could be lurking - "

"You heard the lady." Santon said with a smile. "Let's go."

Bree frowned. If Santon agreed with her it _must_ be a bad idea. She shrugged, deciding she didn't care. She let Santon lead her over the ridge and across a small clearing, to the ruined, crumbling monastery. It wasn't until she stood in the shade of it's toppling walls that she even began to pay attention to her surroundings. She pulled out her water skin and drank from it deeply. Finally, she wiped the sweat off of her brow with her sleeve and looked around.

They stood in a huge promenade littered with bits of debris ranging from tiny rocks to enormous hunks of masonry. Two huge fallen sections of the western wall had collapsed. Bree and Santon had entered through the southernmost of these holes, while Nes and Fudin had entered through the northernmost one. The roof was little more than a few bricks which leaned precariously atop the few jagged pillars still standing. At the end of the hallway were two alcoves as well as a massive, partially collapsed archway that opened up into what looked like a chapel. The eastern wall, no more than forty feet away, was long and solid, broken by only a few open doorways.

Fudin looked both ways, cautiously. He reminded Bree of a bird or a deer, alert for danger. She smiled. He probably wouldn't like her analogy. Come to think of it, did they even have deer here? He crept forward. Nes followed close behind, leaving Reginald at the gaping holes in the outer wall. Santon walked behind them, calmly, seemingly without a care in the world. Bree smiled and joined him.

Fudin neared the stairs to the chapel, and glanced back and forth. Nes wandered to the left alcove with Fudin eyeing the area before him suspiciously.

Santon shook his head and walked up to the second alcove before bowing. "After you, my lady."

Bree scoffed but entered the room without responding.

She stood in a debris laden chamber which appeared to have once held a shrine or altar of some sort. Whatever it was had been smashed decades ago. Behind it was a huge, bas relief statue of a muscular man with a pointy beard gesturing towards a large mountain in the background. He looked concerned.

Santon leaned in over her shoulder. "That's the Pale Mountain." he said, gesturing at the sculpture. "It is the site of many foul legends."

Bree eyed the man closer. She didn't recognize him, but he was depicted in the manor that the faithful of Sarenrae often showed their saints. "This man must have been quite important." she mused. "I don't know who he is, though."

"I'm not surprised." Nes said with a slight tilt of his chin. "It is Vardishal. He's a rather obscure regional saint. It would take someone quite learned to recognize him."

Bree scowled at him then turned to the other nave.

"I meant nothing ill," he explained with a huff. "I was merely pointing out the differences in our education."

A similar statue adorned the eastern alcove, in this case with the bearded figure appearing on a hilltop to a group of robed pilgrims. His palms were held out before him and he seemed to be assuring the onlookers that he meant them no harm. The pilgrims around him were heavily worn down and some appeared to have been purposely broken. Those whose faces were whole bore expressions ranging from from awed to horrified.

"Who was Vardishal?" she asked.

Nes smiled. "They say he was a Templar of the Five Winds; a powerful group of genies from antiquity. Legends say that they defeated a great evil hundreds of years ago, near Pale Mountain, in the Brazen Peaks. It is not far from here. They have not been heard of in centuries, of course, but peasants occasionally attribute minor miracles to them still; the healing of the sick, prevention of droughts, the turning of a windstorm, that sort of nonsense."

"He looks dangerous. I'm not sure I would want to meet him."

"Most men of note were."

In between the two alcoves stood a newer looking stele. Bree rubbed her hands along it's carved letters, translating from Kelesh as she did, "A ghost of unholy mein was purged from this place by Theodophus Estrovan, servant of Aroden, 4691 A.R."

"Little more than twenty years ago," Santon mused. "I wonder what happened here."

"A battle." Fudin stated. "I can sense it, though no sign remains."

"A battle?" Bree asked. "Over what?"

Nes shook his head. "No one knows what happened here, nor why Kelmarane fell."

Fudin sniffed the air deeply. "It was a slaughter, whatever the cause."

Nes nodded. "No one survived."

Santon turned away from the trio and started down a wide set of ceremonial steps leading into the dilapidated chapel. "Enough talk. You're depressing me."

Bree smiled then stood to follow him. She ducked below a fallen, dried out timber, and stood, looking around curiously. The chapel was cavernous. A vibrant red and orange sunburst of Sarenrae still stood behind a film of rusted rainwater and dirt along the northernmost wall, overlooking a collapsed altar. Between the stairs upon which Bree stood and the altar were dozens of old, marble benches, many overturned and even more broken into two or more pieces. A wide walkway bisected the pews, leading directly to the raised altar. A grotesque, boulder-sized candelabra made of gnoll skulls and rotting heads hung from the rafters in the center of the chapel. Bree frowned. It couldn't be very old.

" 'Ware!" Fudin called.

The knotted rope suspending the gnoll skulls jumped and jerked as a runty little creature dressed in crude furs scrambled down from above to get a foothold on the swaying heads. A pugwampi.

"Bitter brew." Bree held her buckler and scimitar before her. At her side, Santon drew his greatsword from its sheath upon his back.

The pugwampi let out a squeaky laugh before casting it's hands in a rude gesture at Bree.

"Cayden's codpiece!" she muttered in disgust. "I hope that doesn't mean what I think it does."

Santon laughed. "What a dirty little beast!"

From all around them tiny arrows flew by, striking Santon in the leg, and tearing through the sleeves on Nes' robes. A half dozen little pugwampi scurried about on the rafters, chittering to each other and laughing maniacally.

Santon swore.

"The southeastern corner!" Fudin shouted. He pointed at an interwoven mish-mash of soiled tapestries, tablecloths, and altar runners that resembled a giant wasps nest just as two more pugwampi scurried out from inside of it.

Bree glanced around frantically as more tiny arrows whizzed by her, one of which struck her in the leg. "Froth and foam!" she shrieked, more angry than anything, as a dribble of blood poured from the wound.

"Come on!" Santon shouted. He ran towards a rickety looking wooden ladder.

Bree frowned. It didn't look very safe, but she had no ranged weapon, and neither did Santon. A trio of arrows scraped past her face, one of which caused blood to drip down her cheek.

"Ugh!" she cried. "That's it!"

Lightning crackled behind her, knocking stone from the ceiling above. A pugwampi screamed while the others yipped in anger.

"No, Fudin!" Nes cried over the cacophony. "You'll bring the whole chapel down!"

Bree sheathed her sword and slowly clambered up the ladder behind Santon. Beneath her the ladder creaked and swayed, but held.

As Santon neared the top a hysterical laugh resounded across the room. Bree looked up to see a pair of pugwampi push the ladder away from the rafters. It leaned precariously for a moment, but luck was not on their side.

Santon leaped from the ladder, for the rafters, and Bree began to fall. She reached out for something, anything and grabbed onto Santon's foot. Santon struggled to hang onto the rafters. The pugwampis cackled in delight, drew a jagged looking dagger each, and approached Santon's hands.

"Climb!" he called. "NOW!"

Bree looked up, and gasped. She scurried up awkwardly over Santon who, thankfully, was too worried to make any lewd comments.

The pugwampi lunged down with their daggers just as Bree managed to grab onto the rafters. Santon screamed as they cut through his flesh, impaling his hands onto the wood he clutched to. He let go. As he fell the daggers tore out of his hands. He landed with a great crack, atop a marble pew. His impact broke it in two.

Bree grunted, and pulled herself up, onto the rafters. She wobbled and glanced down. Santon did not move. Fudin was climbing up a rope to the pugwampi nest in the far corner, and Nes was aiming his wand at a rope that appeared to be connected to the gnoll-skull chandelier. Flame poured from the wand, lit the rope on fire and caused the grotesque decoration to crash to the ground.

Slowly, Bree drew her scimitar, slicing her belt off as she did so. "Broken tankard!"

The pugwampis laughed.

She gritted her teeth and stepped forward. One of the pugwampi lunged at her, digging its dagger into her foot, straight through her boot.

She sliced downwards with her blade and severed the creatures hands from its body. It shrieked in pain before running back and forth, in a panic, between her and the other pugwampi. She swayed, blood pouring from her foot, and inched ahead.

Beneath her, the beam cracked, and then buckled, sending her and the two pugwampi careening to the ground. They landed in a tangled heap atop Santon. Bree rolled off of him, then crushed the two pugwampis beneath her bleeding foot. She turned to Santon, who bled from his mouth and hands. She dug around in her pack, pulled out one of the potions provided to her from Father Zastoran, and poured it down Santon's throat. He coughed, then sputtered, and then stood as the wounds upon his hands closed.

Bree offered him a hand up. Behind them, pugwampi screamed and lightning crackled.

"Thanks," Santon said through gritted teeth.

A hush fell over the chapel. Bree looked around for any sign of enemies.

From the makeshift nest in the corner a tiny ball of armor crawled out. It was a pugwampi, covered from the tips of his ears to the ends of his toes in thick, gore encrusted plate armor. Upon it's helmet sat a crown of gnoll teeth and in its hands it gripped a small warhammer, much too big for its tiny body. It stood upon the rafters, let out a shrill laugh, and then jumped down to the ground. It landed with a clang. It reached up one of its hands and then closed it.

Bree's buckler let out a loud crack then fell to the floor in pieces. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" she growled.

The pugwampi king laughed, raised its warhammer high, and charged forward. He was fast. Too fast. He crashed into Bree's calf, leading with his warhammer, causing Bree to shout in pain and fall to the ground. The pugwampi continued on and, behind her, Santon howled in pain. Bree struggled to get up while Fudin dove overtop of the oncoming pugwampi. He cleared the jump without difficulty, but landed in a pile of rubble and slipped. The pugwampi turned back towards Fudin and raised his warhammer to the ceiling.

Nes drew his wand and aimed it at the vicious, little creature. "Spitfire!"

The wand's tip glowed, but fire burst forth from it in the wrong direction, sending flames roaring at Nes himself. He shrieked as his robes went up in flames.

Fudin rolled, causing the pugwampi king to narrowly miss his head and strike a marble pew instead. It shattered in an explosion of stone shards which flew out in all directions. Fudin growled and clutched at his face.

The crowned pugwampi laughed.

Santon picked up a stone and hurled it at the pugwampi. It clanged uselessly against his armour. Bree finally staggered to her feet and both she and Santon crept forward, blades drawn. Santon lunged forward first, and the pugwampi dove to the side, rolling away like a ball. Bree slashed with her sword but struck his armour. Santon thrust downwards, but the pugwampi rolled again, sending Santon's blade into the floor instead.

The pugwampi was up in an instant, charging at Bree with his warhammer. Bree tried to dodge to the side, but slipped in her haste and tumbled to the ground. The pugwampi king tripped over her body . His force sent the two of them tumbling across the room.

Bree's head cracked against pews, debris, and the pugwampis armour, but she managed to keep consciousness. She struggled to her feet, dizzy, desperately looking for her scimitar before the pugwampi charged her again.

Where was it? She braced herself, expecting the crash of a warhammer against her calves at any second, but it never came. Slowly, her vision righted itself and the room stopped spinning. The pugwampi king lay in a pool of his own blood, with Bree's scimitar protruding from a small gap in its armour between it's helmet and breastplate.

"Well done, Bree." Santon groaned from across the room.

"I meant to do that."

Fudin wiped stone and grit from his eyes while Nes muttered to himself angrily about losing another fine set of robes.

"Fudin!" he called out. "Fetch me another - "

"He can't even see, Nes!" Bree grumbled at him, cutting him off.

"Oh. Quite right. Never mind, Fudin!"

Bree shook her head as Nes trudged out of the ruined chapel, the remains of his fine silken robes dangling off of him like vines. Cayden's codpiece! Would she have to see him naked _every_ day?

She looked around the chapel. Its once brilliant glass paned windows were shattered, its benches broken, its altar defiled and smeared with excrement. Pages from the holy text of Sarenrae, _The Birth of Light and Truth_, lay scattered about the pulpit. Corpses of pugwampis, animals, and the heads of gnolls marked everything with gore. What once had been a holy site had become a desecrated, macabre, pile of filth.

Bree frowned. "We need to clean this place up."

Fudin, finally able to see and breathe clearly, shook his head. "Best finish searching the grounds first. We know not what else lurks within these walls."

Santon nodded. "We can return later, to set this place right."

Bree sighed. They were right. She looked sadly around the room that must have once spread faith and hope throughout the region. How far it had fallen...

It had suffered decades of abuse. It could wait a few more hours. She would be back.


	15. Chapter 14: The Monastery

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Fourteen

The Monastery

Bree and her comrades left the chapel and returned to the ruined nave. Fudin crept at the front of the line with Nes directly behind him, wand readied. Santon and Bree walked behind them, though this time with their swords drawn. They would not be taken be surprise again.

Fudin led them through the nearest archway into a five foot wide corridor lined on one side with broken and marred bas-relief sculptures and on the other with archways leading into a mess of overgrown branches and weeds. The hallway led both east and south, seeming to circle around the courtyard. The sculptures were marred and worn, some even purposefully broken, while the courtyard was overgrown with huge branches and weeds. It was barely possible to see a few feet into the tangled mess. Bree eyed it cautiously for a moment, before nodding.

It was a cloister walk. In happier times the dedicated of this temple would have paced along the hallways, contemplating the religious iconography along the walls, with the open air courtyard in between. Now it was little more than a reminder of how far the monastery had fallen.

Fudin peered into the courtyards leafy boughs. "I see nothing moving within."

Bree turned her attention to the walls. The first mural depicted five bearded men before an ominous looking mountain. They all bore triumphant smiles upon their faces and seemed to be somehow larger than life. They each rode upon wind and clouds. Some of their arms and hands were missing, though those that remained carried distinctive weapons. One of the warriors held a large axe, while another held a fragment of what must have once been a regal staff. Beneath their feet the stone carving bore a name for each of the men: Kardswann, Pazhvann, Vardishal, Zayafid and Davashuum.

"The Templars of the Five Winds." Nes mused over her shoulder. "And the Pale Mountain before them."

Bree nodded. "What else do you know of them?"

Nes sighed. "Not much, I'm afraid. They are not well known where I am from. In fact, if I myself were not a devotee of Sarenrae, I would not have recognized them."

Bree arched an eyebrow and eyed Nes. She had not seen him as a religious man, though they were often well educated. In her experience, nobles paid little more than lip service to deities, and often only when they wanted something. It made sense, though, she supposed, that a man who used fire as a weapon would worship Sarenrae. She was a good goddess, also known as the Dawnflower, bringer of the sun. She was passionate and determined and had powers over the sun, fire, heat, and the deserts, as well as of healing, and redemption. She often battled the forces of evil, and offered hope and protection to the downtrodden. Bree smiled. Though not her own patron, it was an admirable faith.

Nes continued without noticing her regard. "Each was said to be associated with a specific aspect of the wind, and each wielded a distinct, highly potent magic weapon. It seems that Davashuum wielded a staff," he said, pointing out one of the figures upon the wall, "and Kardswann a great axe, but I know no more."

Bree nodded.

"Come." Fudin said from further along the wall they were examining. "There are two rooms ahead."

Bree and Nes continued on, after Fudin and Santon.

The first room appeared to be a small chapel, probably meant for personal prayer and contemplation. It had brightly painted walls which, in comparison to the muted colours and reserved architecture of the rest of the monastery, seemed almost garish. Numerous rectangular wooden plates traced in gold filigree jutted out from the walls. They depicted a strapping warrior battling creatures of fire, riding a chariot on the wind, and engaging in other acts of heroism. It was the same figure depicted elsewhere in the monastery, but the sheer number of images of him here was staggering. Opposite the door, dominating a section of the north wall, stood a man-sized statue of the warrior. He held his arms out in front of him, as if he were waiting to be handed an offering. Several deep rents ran across the face and arms of the statue. Someone had tried to break it in the past. With an axe.

"This shrine must have been especially important to the clerics who honoured Vardishal as a saint of Sarenrae." Nes said aloud. "Though someone obviously bore great displeasure for him before the end."

"No danger." Fudin cut in. He turned and left the room the way they had come. Santon followed, although Bree and Nes lingered for a moment, glancing at the history etched upon the walls.

The second room off of the cloister walk was a small antechamber, which was carved with winged women, the sun, fire and sun bursts, as well as images of people prostrate in prayer, or healing the wounded with brilliant light. They were iconography common among the Dawnflower's faithful. At the back of the antechamber was an archway leading to an austere, octagonal chamber with a tall roof. A ring of leering gargoyles circled the room's circumference. A layer of gore, animal carcasses, matted leaves and droppings covered the floor and the entire room stunk of rotting meat, dried blood and animal excrement.

Bree gagged. Cayden's curse, what a smell!

Santon and Fudin stood in the center of the room on edge. They peered warily at the stone carvings of gargoyles on the walls. Bree held her scimitar out before her, while Nes aimed his wand at the roof. They waited there, for a few tense moments, but the gargoyles never moved.

A screech sounded from the roof, followed by the sickly flap of fleshy wings. From the highest corners of the roof, where the shadows were darkest, a trio of stirges, giant mosquito like flying mammals, dove down towards them.

Bree squealed and slashed frantically at them but missed in her haste. Fudin singled out out and breathed lightning up at it. His target ducked under the line of crackling electricity, and jabbed its long proboscis deeply into Nes' chest, piercing flesh and bone. Nes screamed, as the creature latched onto him. It drank his blood in deep gulps.

Santon swung his sword at one of the stirges and sliced off part of its wings. It screeched and went careening to the ground in a bloody, twitching spiral. Santon was upon it in a moment, and impaled it upon his sword.

Bree slashed frantically at a stirge, holding it at bay, but never striking it.

Nes howled in pain and dropped to the floor. Fudin threw himself upon the stirge who drank off of his brother and tried to pull it off, but it did not loosen its hold. Nes screamed, and then lost consciousness.

"No!" roared Fudin. He punched and kicked at the creature as it continued to feed of of his brother.

Santon stepped forward and sliced the stirge's proboscis off midway. It severed in a spray of blood while Santon sliced the rest of the creature in half. Fudin crouched overtop of Nes and pulled the remainder of the creatures proboscis out of his chest. Nes appeared deathly pale. He didn't move.

Finally, Bree struck the frantic stirge which flew around her, slicing its belly open, and then its throat. It fell to the ground with a slick thud. She looked across the room to where Fudin poured both of his healing potions down his brother's throat. Nes' wounds closed and slowly the colour returned to his cheeks.

They had already used up half of their potion stores provided to them by Father Zastoran. Bree shook her head. This was like a celebration with dry kegs.

Nes groaned upon the floor.

Fudin helped him carefully to his feet. "Never do that again, my brother."

Nes frowned. "Never _speak_ of that again."

Santon, covered in the blood of both the stirges and Nes, paced around the room. He placed his hands against the wall and pushed. It shifted slightly. "There's a hidden door here," he said.

Bree moved forward to help try to open it, but Santon pushed her away. He stepped back, roared and kicked the stone door in with a great heave.

Bree stared at him with wide eyes. "Sweet barleybrew!" Santon was _not_ himself.

He peeked his head into the next room, looked both ways and then entered. "Garden," he muttered. He began to dig through the debris and goods upon the ground.

Bree shook her head. He was looting! She left the room, but was soon drawn back by the clatter of coins. She _was_ still poor after all...

Santon had scrounged up just over forty gold worth of loose coins, a fine looking silver bowl, and a small chime, which Nes requested to examine further.

"It a chime of opening," he explained excitedly, as his brother stuffed the silver bowl and some coins into a small sack at his side. "It will open any door or portal, but will get weaker each time it is used, until it breaks." He smiled and placed it in one of his robes many pockets. Santon handed Bree a handful of coins and stalked out of the room. The others followed.

The second wall of the cloister walk bore a marred sculpture of the Templars of the Five Winds in battle against hordes of foul creatures. Some appeared to be composed at least partly of fire while others were warriors with weapons bonded onto their flesh. Most were beings Bree couldn't even begin to describe. In the background was the Pale Mountain and over it two titanic figures fought. One had the demonic visage of an efreeti - a genie tied to the elemental plane of fire, while the other was a gorgeous female djinn - a genie tied to the elemental plane of air.

The third wall abutted what must have been the outer wall of the monastery itself and featured three separate panels of sculpture. In the first scene, Vardishal took leave of his Templar companions who rose off into the heavens. In the second scene Vardishal was skewered by a flaming half man, half snake creature wielding a spear. In the final scene Vardishal appeared twice, once on the ground with a wound in his back, and once standing over this form, looking down upon it sadly.

"The death of Vardishal?" Bree asked aloud. Nes limped over to her side, slowly.

"Looks like it, though I had not heard that any of them had died at all before now." He shrugged, clearly tired.

Bree walked with Nes along the final wall. Here, Vardishal was depicted preaching to a variety of human clerics from throughout the long history of the monastery. The first image showed him manifesting in a spiritual manner to a small group of pilgrims of Sarenrae, another showed him conversing to a man clad in religious finery while the monastery itself was constructed in the background. Thereafter followed a procession of similar poses, each depicting a visit by Vardishal to the leader of each era of the temple. Each bore a worn identifying inscription, complete with dates that spanned the last several hundred years. The most recent carving was from thirty years ago, and while ample room remained for additional carvings, the last thirty feet or so were completely blank.

Bree frowned. "That's it. This is when everyone here died."

Nes nodded. "All things end."

"Come, brother!" Fudin interrupted. He pointed to an archway further ahead. He sounded worried. Santon was nowhere to be seen.

"Let us follow, Bree." Nes said regally, using her name for the first time. "We are wanted."

Bree smiled, stepping in front of him and led the way. He seemed tired and could use her protection. "Ladie's first."

"Quite right."


	16. Chapter 15: Books and Cooks

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Fifteen

Books and Cooks

They followed a short hallway into a longer, but plain interior hallway which led to a few rooms in the monastery's southern wing. Two doors hung half open on their hinges on the right side along with an archway at the far end, while two archways opened off on the left side of the room. In the center stood a weatherworn statue of a winged woman. The goddess Sarenrae. The roof above was broken by several gaping holes, and debris littered the floor in three big piles.

Santon and Fudin cautiously pushed open the first door on the right. They peered in for a moment.

"Library." Fudin noted. Then he and Santon moved on to the next door.

Bree and Nes both ignored him and entered the remains of the ancient library. Hundreds of books littered the floor. Most appeared too damaged to touch without destroying them. Empty book shelves lined the walls and two ladders leaned up against the shelves. It stunk of musty, rotting paper and old leather filled. Bree and Nes sifted through the books and piles of paper, sighing each time something crumpled to dust at their touch.

"Found one." Bree exclaimed. She picked up a multi-coloured, leather bound tome from the floor. It appeared completely undamaged. She smiled as she read the cover aloud. "_Courts of Stone and Flame_." Bree had always loved books.

Nes peered at the book over her shoulder as she opened its cover. The pages glistened with an inner light, and the tight, red letters seemed alive upon the parchment.

Nes yanked the book from her hands. "I'll take that."

Bree scowled at him and turned. "Excuse me?"

"I think we both know which of us would get the most from this tome."

Bree grabbed the book from his greedy, manicured hands. He lunged forward, to reclaim the book, but Bree, a full head and a half taller than Nes and much stronger, held the book in the air in one hand, and held him back, at arms length with the other.

"I found it." she growled.

Nes jumped once, and then again, ineffectively trying to seize the book from Bree's upraised hand. Bree smiled. The guy was a leaky keg.

Finally he frowned. "Fudin! Retrieve my possessions from this peasant!"

Bree scowled, but Fudin did not appear.

"Fudin?"

Bree and Nes looked back to the hallway with worry.

"Right," Nes said stoically as he turned to the door. "I will read it after you, then, I suppose."

Bree nodded, placed the book in her bag and followed Nes back out into the hallway.

It was silent.

Fudin and Santon stood at the next doorway, with Fudin's ear pressed up against the door. He raised his hand, motioning Nes and Bree over. As they neared he backed up, without a word, and Santon kicked down the door, breaking it right off of its aged hinges and sending it flying into the room beyond. It was a large kitchen covered in a deep pile of broken glass, cutlery, pottery, jagged bone and sharp stone. A few familiar squeals sounded from within.

Bree shook her head, "Tipped tankard."

Beside her, Nes groaned.

Pugwampi.

Fudin and Santon tore into the room and slipped on the unstable footing. The pugwampi cackled in glee.

Nes strode to the doorway and moved his hands in a few strange, precise gestures. "Vishayim vax voseth!" he cried, pointing into the room. A thin, golden beam shot out from his fingertip and struck one of the yipping pugwampi. It shrieked and burst into flame.

Fudin and Santon slowly crept to their feet as two other pugwampi took cover behind an overturned pot. A shrieking, howl sounded from behind Bree.

She turned to see a quartet of baboons leap out from the next room in a frenzy. They bared their teeth at her, obviously aggressive. She held her scimitar out menacingly as the encircled her. "Guys?" she called over her shoulder. "I could use a little help."

Fudin and Santon cursed in pain.

"To the woman, Santon!" Nes cried. "Fudin, to me!"

Bree kept her eyes on the feral, snarling baboons. Santon stood beside her, broadsword drawn. Behind her, Nes intoned another spell and Fudin breathed lightning into the kitchen. The pugwampis yipped with excitement, but not pain.

Santon growled back at the baboons, and charged forward, swinging his sword in a wide stroke. The baboons on one side fell back, shrieking, from his blade, but the others closed in. Bree dashed in, behind Santon and sliced one of the baboons in the side. It screamed in protest, and flung itself at her. It's filthy teeth scraped against her chain shirt, but she managed to twist out of its grip. Santon roared, thrust forward with his blade and impaled one of the baboons upon it. He kept swinging, flinging blood and the baboon corpse across the room. Bree cut one of the baboons in the shoulder and then slashed again, slicing it open. It shrieked, and the three remaining baboons backed up. They leaped forward together with a great scream. Santon swept his sword out in a wide arc, beheading two of them mid-leap, while Bree ducked nimbly under the third. She slashed out at it with her scimitar before it had time to regain its footing.

Arrows whizzed out of the kitchen.

Nes frowned. "Lashto vax bethnin! Priaptic!" A roaring fire poured forth from his hands, entered the kitchen and formed itself into a cube, filling up the entire room. The pugwampi within screamed, but Nes held his hands out still, pouring more flame into the room and shaping it with his will.

The screams subsided, and Nes withdrew the flames, lowering his arms. Various articles in the room continued to burn. He raised his open hands and closed them, snuffing all the flames in the room with a gesture.

Fudin clapped him on the back and Nes nodded, folding his sleeves back down over his hands carefully. He looked at Bree and Santon then grimaced in distaste.

They _had_ become rather gore encrusted... Bree wiped baboon blood from her face. It was all Santon's fault!

Nes opened his mouth to speak, but then clamped it shut again. Instead, he nodded at the room beyond.

Santon threw his arms around Bree's shoulders. "Good job." He wiped some blood off of her face and smeared it on the wall. "You're a little sloppy though."

"I'm sloppy? You're the one who gave the hallway a new paint job!"

Fudin and Nes continued on, examining a mess hall with a collapsed roof, a group bedroom which reeked of fur and was obviously the baboon's lair, and finally, a mostly intact dormitory. In the back of the final room, behind a toppled pair of bunks, was a stone door, sealed shut, with mold creeping out from its seams.

Bree eyed the doorway, with a sudden sense of foreboding.

Fudin and Santon moved the bunks out of the way. Santon stepped forward, pried the mold out of the creases of the door and pushing on it slightly.

"It's not locked."

"Wait." Bree said. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Nes moved forward and eyed the mold. "It's not dangerous." he said with certainty. "It is in a strange configuration, surely," he added, "and much more concentrated than would appear in the wild. But not harmful."

Santon smiled. "So what are we waiting for?" Santon kicked down the door with a heave of his powerful leg. It swung open, showering the room with mold spores. A mold lined stairwell leading down, below the monastery, into the dark. "After you?" he asked Bree.

Bree shook her head. "I don't think so." A shiver ran up her spine. "Not this time."


	17. Chapter 16: The Laboratory

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Sixteen

The Laboratory

Bree hung back, at the end of the line, as her comrades descended into the dark stone stairwell. This time she didn't do it to watch the rear or because she felt safe. This time she did it out of fear.

Something down there was giving Bree a strange feeling. A sort of... pulling sensation, drawing her inexorably down, down, down, into the dark. She knew not what lay beyond, what was calling her, but she had the distinct feeling that whatever it was would change her life forever. She thought about letting the others go on without her, about staying behind, but she didn't. She couldn't. Despite her better judgement, she _wanted_ to see what was calling her. She yearned for it.

Though what _it_ was, she couldn't fathom.

Fudin led the way, at the front of the line, ahead of their light source. Nes walked behind him, another glowing ball of heatless flame in his hand. Santon strode behind them, broadsword ready in his hands. And finally, behind him, Bree walked carefully, cautiously, terrified of what lay beyond.

Her palms sweated upon her sword pommel and after only a few steps she began to wish she still had a belt, so she could sheath her scimitar, before her palms became so slick she dropped it.

They descended at least twenty feet in depth, into the ground, before they spotted the base of the stairs. It opened up into an enormous laboratory at least fifty paces deep and forty paces across. Three massive mold-encrusted tables filled the center of the room. On both the left and right side of the room were a curved set of stairs which led up a dais. Upon each was a large workbench covered in a bewildering series of glass vials, tubes and other tools whose purpose Bree couldn't fathom. Some of the containers were filled with a murky, green substance. Mold-encrusted tiles lined the floor, interrupted occasionally by metal drains the size of dinner plates. Directly to Bree's left was a short hallway which ended in a wooden door.

Nes strode across the room to examine the tables of tools and glassware.

Fudin stood beside him, protectively. "What need had priests for an alchemy lab?" Nes shrugged his shoulders, "Perhaps some among their number studied the arcane arts, instead of the divine. They might have used this laboratory as a place to brew potions and salves, to heal in the name of the Dawnflower as their brethren did."

Bree glanced the green substances in the vials with a raised eyebrow. "This doesn't look like a healer's concoction to me."

"I wouldn't drink it, either," Santon chuckled.

Bree moved closer, eyeing the slime with distaste. It quivered in response, jiggling like jelly. Bree jumped back and the substance stopped. She blinked. Had she imagined it?

She crept forward again, slowly. It quivered and then gushed forward out of the vials, straight for Bree's head. She screamed and ducked, causing the slime to fly past her. It landed on the ground with a slick thud. Bree turned, drawing her sword.

Behind her Nes squealed. "My robes!"

The slime looked like a sloppy, near liquified lump of plant matter spotted with tiny mushrooms and patches of sickly green mold. Bree glanced at Nes, to see he and Fudin fighting back a second pile of slime, which retreated down a drain.

The slime before her jiggled as it launched itself forward. Bree twisted to the side, dodging the slime but crashing into the mold encrusted table. Santon swung his sword, cutting sluggishly into the ooze-like pile, which surged forward and began climbing swiftly up his legs. He roared, dropped his sword, and tried to pry the slime off of him. Each handful he tore off was replaced by two more. Bree ran over to help, flinging the nasty goo across the room.

"There it is," Fudin shouted behind her, "coming up from the drains!"

"I've got it!" Nes shouted back.

The slime creeped higher, and higher still, until it reached Santon's face where it tried to force itself up his nose and down his throat. Bree pried at it frantically.

"Lashto vax bethnin! Conus!" Nes shouted.

Heat billowed behind her. Lightning shook the chamber.

Santon shoved his hands down his throat and finally pried the goo out. He flung it at a nearby wall. They backed up, towards the stairwell, with Santon spitting wads of slime out of his mouth.

Nes was slick with sweat. His spellcasting seemed to be taking far more energy from him than normal. He grunted and then roared. Finally, the slime caught flame, burning and sizzling. Still, Nes held on, pouring more and more of himself into his incantation.

The second slime slipped into another drain as the first sizzled and melted away, into a slick puddle upon the floor. Nes smiled, looking triumphantly at its remains.

"Well, done, my brother." Fudin congratulated.

"The other lives." Bree warned them.

The brothers turned and backed away from the drains in the floor. From the wall behind her, Bree heard a squishing sound. She turned just in time to see the slime shoot out from a pipe jutting from the wall right at her eye level.

The mold enveloped her head, forced its way up her nose, and down her throat. She gagged, but still the slime inched its way lower. Her vision blurred, her hearing became dull and her breathing ceased. She struggled and then, all at once, became bombarded by voices and visions. They tore through her skull like cyclone, mixing her own memories with those of the slime until everything was an incoherent, broken jumble. She screamed, or at least she thought she did, as the combined experiences and emotions of multiple lifetimes assaulted her.

Her head felt as if it would explode. Each memory, each sensation, was sharp as a blade, cutting through her brain, taking it apart fold by fold.

Her vision went dark, and then entirely black.

Bree fell to the ground overwhelmed, cracked her head upon the moldy, tiled floor and knew no more.


	18. Chapter 17: Possession

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Seventeen

Possession

Santon roared with rage as the slime burst forth from the wall, engulfing Bree in an instant. He tore at it, trying to save Bree from the vile slime, helpless as it filled her.

"No!" he bellowed.

The slime disappeared inside of her. She screamed, and then all at once stopped. She fell to the ground a motionless heap. The slime seeped out of her mouth and nose, slowly reforming before Santon. He stood, grabbed his bastard sword and swung it at the slime again and again, tearing slowly through its rubber-like bulk.

Bree opened her eyes. Santon smiled, and then frowned. Her eyes glowed green. _Both of them_. A sickly, green mold throbbed and pulsing upon her hands. He could see no skin beneath it.

Santon ducked as the slime launched itself at him.

Bree stood in a jerky, clumsy motion, and then turned, walking slowly up the stairs, back to the monastery above.

Santon growled and sliced into the slime again. "Bree!" he shouted, as she walked away. "BREE!"

She made no response.

"She is possessed!" Nes called from across the room.

"Take the slime!" Santon shouted at the brothers before charging up the stairs after Bree.

Despite her jerky, unsure movements, she proved quite quick. Santon had barely reach the landing and already she was out of sight.

He cursed. "Bree?" From down the stairs he heard Fudin pummeling the slime with his fists.

"Save the woman!" Nes called from below.

Santon took off at a run, checking the rooms as he went. He found her on her hands and knees, forcing her way through the tangled foliage in the central courtyard. "Bree! Come back!"

She paid him no heed and disappeared into the maze of plants. Santon tried to follow after her but proved too big. Somewhere from within he heard the shifting of earth.

Santon eyed the tangle of plants. He drew his bastard sword and slowly, swung it at the nearest tangled, clump of vegetation. It took a few strokes to trim any of it away, and to make matters worse, Santon had no idea where Bree was within. If she did not come out on her own, it would take a great deal of work to find her. He kept swinging. He would not leave her. Not _her_.

Eventually, Nes and Fudin joined him.

"Where is she?" Nes asked.

"She went inside, but I couldn't follow her." Santon replied without stopping.

Fudin nodded. "It is unnaturally thick."

Santon laughed, dropped his sword and threw himself on the ground. "You're telling me." He was exhausted.

Fudin picked up Santon's sword and held it out awkwardly before him. "I will take a turn. Rest."

Santon nodded, grateful for the reprieve.

"We defeated the slime without difficulty," Nes said. "It seemed less cunning after you left. I think whatever sentience was driving it transferred itself to Bree."

"Are you saying she's possessed by slime?"

Nes shook his head. "No. Slimes and oozes are instinctual creatures. They have no drive, other than to consume. But, I believe that something had taken residence within them, some kind of presence which, through the slime, took hold of Bree."

"Well, it can't have her."

"I don't know that we have a choice in that, my friend." Nes said sadly. "It is up to Bree."

Santon fell silent. For a few minutes, all that he heard was the shuffling of earth from within the plants, and an uncertain hacking as Fudin cut his way into the garden.

"I find you are surprisingly fond of the woman." Nes ventured.

"I think you'll find I am fond of most women."

"You know that is not what I meant, Santon. Is it because she is a foreigner?"

Santon laughed. "I've seen Northerners before."

"Then why her? She is foolish, impetuous, irritating beyond belief."

"I don't believe that is any of your business. Besides, I don't want to bang her if that's what you're worried about."

"It's exactly because you don't want to... become intimate with her that I am worried."

"And here I though you were going to defend her honour."

"You treat her differently. As something more, but I cannot fathom why."

"Let it go, Nes."

"I am afraid I cannot. It is just us out here. Fudin and I are forced to rely upon you and I need to know that this" he gestured at the movement from within the bushes "will not consume you. I need to know that when we find the woman, if the possession cannot be stopped you will not break."

"Enough."

"I need to know that if she emerges from those bushes and lunges at you with a sharpened tree branch - "

"Enough!"

"You will do what needs to be done!"

"ENOUGH!"

"Tell me the woman will not be the end of you."

"I am not a fool."

"Aren't you?"

Santon smiled then. A full blown, gleaming, radiant smile. He laughed. "You wait until I tell my fabulously rich and powerful Father about how you have insulted me, Nes. He will be most displeased."

Nes quirked up an eyebrow. "I am sure."

"Careful. You're in a land of Merchant Kings, of which my father is one of them. You'll have to pretend at fear better than that or someone might suppose you had a powerful father yourself."

Nes narrowed his eyes. "Quite right."

Santon's eyes drifted back to the garden. "Anything else?"

"There was a crypt beyond the laboratory." Nes said. "Hundreds of dead were within."

Santon shrugged. "A rather large crypt for a place this size."

Nes shook his head. "Not buried, Santon. A battle took place below."

"A battle? In the crypt?"

Nes nodded. "It seems that the monastery was attacked before its fall... by villagers."

"Villagers?"

"Yes."

"Were they opposed to the faith of Sarenrae?" Santon asked curiously. Not many were, her faith was extremely prevalent in the region.

Nes shook his head. "That is what troubles me. They were all followers of the Dawnflower, down to the last man."

"Then why would they attack the monastery?"

"I don't know. Perhaps the monastery was involved in some kind of foul practices, though I found no evidence suggesting that was the case."

"What about the lab? Alchemy can be a dangerous pastime."

"I found alchemical formulae down there, but nothing condemning. Restorative ointments mostly. Some paints and pigments."

"It might have been the villagers who were committing the evil acts." Santon mused. "If so, we might find evidence of it in Kelmarane itself. There is no closer village."

Nes nodded. "It could also have been a religious schism. Though it is rare among the faithful of Sarenrae, it has happened a few times since the birth of her church."

Santon frowned. "I doubt it. It could have been political. Temples tend to command great power, especially so far from the capital."

Nes nodded. "Even among the faithful, power is a temptation."

Santon paused, falling silent again. Power was always a temptation. Especially among those who already had some.

Nes stood. "I will begin the odious task of cleaning this building."

Santon laughed. "You? Best take your brother with you, then. I suspect you don't have many back up robes left."

Nes nodded. "Fudin! Come!"

Santon stood and took his bastard sword from Fudin's hands. Fudin nodded and set off after his brother.

From within the courtyard earth continued to shift, but no other sound was heard.

He frowned. What could she be doing in there? Digging? He raised his sword and began cutting his way through the thick vines and trees.

It didn't matter. He would find her. He would save her.

He had to.


	19. Chapter 18: Awakening

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Eighteen

Awakening

It had been two days since Santon had last seen Bree, and now, finally, he laid eyes upon her again. She lay at the bottom of a hole, dug with her own hands, with a sheathed scimitar clutched in her grip. She appeared to be sleeping, but did not wake at his touch.

Santon crawled into the pit and tried to pry the sword from her hands, but found her grasp too tight. He frowned. Carefully, he lifted her from the soil and placed her upon his back before climbing out of the hole.

He walked to the nearest room with a sturdy roof, the brightly coloured shrine, and placed her upon the ground. Her skin was cold to the touch, but dry. Santon sighed as he sat down beside her.

When he had first met Bree he had seen not a woman, or a conquest, but a kindred spirit. He had looked into her strange mismatched eyes and felt not arousal, but acceptance. He had recognized immediately that she had lost everything and everyone important to her, just as he had. He recognized that they were the same. Two of a kind.

He had known then that _she_ would be the one person he would save, no matter the cost, just as Haleen had saved he and Chochy all those years ago. He would be a brother to Bree, a protector; the family they both so obviously longed for.

He frowned. It had barely been two weeks and he had failed already. Apparently, he was not as good at this as his sister. He shrugged off his backpack and pulled out a blanket. He wrapped it carefully around Bree. Behind him, he heard footsteps.

"Star Flower?" a voice asked.

Santon turned to see Trevvis hovering by the doorway. When had he arrived?

"I saw you carry her in," Trevvis said through clenched teeth. "What happened?"

"We don't know." he said simply, unsure of how to voice his suspicions. Bree seemed to like Trevvis, and he didn't want to spoil it for her with tales of possession and slimy insides.

"You said you'd take care of her!"

"You also told me to keep my hands to myself, which I obviously have not."

Trevvis clenched his fists and Santon frowned. He hadn't meant it like _that_.

"I had to carry her." Santon said in an effort to defuse Trevvis' anger. He stood.

Trevvis stepped forward and raised his fist. Santon didn't move. Trevvis punched him once, solidly in the jaw. A dribble of blood seeped from his lip.

Santon spit a gob of blood onto the floor. "I tried to protect her."

Trevvis frowned but lowered his fist.

"I haven't stopped trying." he continued.

Behind him, Bree stirred. Both men rushed to her side. Her eyes fluttered open. One was green and the other was blue.

Santon sighed in relief.

"Star Flower?" Trevvis asked.

Bree raised a hand to her head and frowned. "I..."

Trevvis threw his arms around her. She stiffened at his touch.

Santon frowned.

"I think I need to be alone for a while," she said.

Trevvis pulled back, looking hurt. Santon patted him on the shoulder. "Come on. She's had a rough time. Haven't you, Bree?"

Bree nodded, but didn't look at them. "Yes." She gazed down at the sheathed blade in her lap. "A hard time."

Trevvis frowned as Santon led him from the room, leaving Bree alone in the shrine. He raised his fists and punched Santon again, solidly in the jaw.

Santon frowned. This was getting old.

"You stay away from her!" Trevvis shouted, turning red with anger.

What Bree saw in this man Santon couldn't imagine. He stood and waved his palms in the air before him. "Fine."

It was better this way. Bree would prefer Trevvis' company over his own when she came to her senses. If she wanted to see him, she would ask. Santon rose from the ground and walked away. As he left the cloister walk he turned his gaze back to the Shrine.

Trevvis sat on the ground, just outside of Bree's room, looking as if the world were crashing down upon him.

Perhaps he should try harder to get along with Trevvis.

"Santon!" a sultry voice purred.

Brotis raced towards him and threw herself into his arms. She kissed his neck frantically.

On second thought, Trevvis could wait. Santon had more pressing matters to tend to.


	20. Chapter 19: The Moldspeaker

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Nineteen

The Moldspeaker

Bree awoke with a thousand thoughts coursing through her mind.

She was a man. She was a woman. She was a human. She was a janni. She was weak. She was strong. She was dead.

No, she was alive. She had to be alive.

Through the torrent of thoughts flowed events. Creatures made of flesh and flame roared, and cursed her name as she cast them to the earth. A woman fluid as the rivers themselves smiled at her, in pride. An armour-clad man swung his sword at a woman, killing her. Chains fell to the ground.

Bree was sure these things should mean something to her. Or should they? Whatever the case, they came too fast. She couldn't sort them out. Emotions and events tumbled over her, a senseless jumble filled with both too much emotion, and none at all.

Past and present existed all at once, in a single, constant moment.

Trevvis hugged her. She died. Her mother died. She was born.

"hard time, Bree?" someone was saying.

"I miss you." said another.

"... accept your service with pride."

"Run!"

"Rise, Tem - "

"You're all piss and vinegar."

The voices swirled around her, a vortex of voices she couldn't sort out.

"Yes," she mumbled. Or did she? "Hard time."

And still the voices assaulted her.

She couldn't make sense of them.

She couldn't contain them.

They spoke to her.

"I need to be alone," someone said. Was it her, or just another of the voices?

"I tried." someone answered.

"Santon!" cried another.

"Be safe," answered her mother.

"Live well," Norn gasped.

"It was all for you, Nefeshti," she sighed.

No! Bree cried. Or did she?

No!

Get out of my head!

"Get out!"

Someone let go of her hand.

"Alright, Star Flower."

Trevvis? Where was Trevvis?

"I'll go."

No.

Come back.

Come back!

The voices dimmed. The memories faded, some diminishing and others vanishing completely.

Bree opened her eyes. She was alone. She clutched a scimitar. Mold covered her right hand - the one that held it - in patchy clumps from her fingertips to her elbow. It didn't feel strange at all. She frowned. She was pretty sure it should.

The blade was cool to her touch and filled her with a sense of calm. It was a brilliant, wet-looking silvery steel from the tip of its blade to the end of its pommel. A sort of swirling, green design decorated the blade. It's handle was wrapped in a light blue leather that was soft as silk.

Bree looked upon the scimitar and smiled. It's name was Tempest and somehow, without knowing it, she had been searching for it her whole life. With it clutched in her hands she felt complete. Whole.

But, how could that be?

It was not a blade that she needed to be whole, but family. And certainly not this blade. She had never seen it before. But, she had. It was hers. She had used it for hundreds of years to hold the evils of the Brazen Peaks at bay. She had -

No. She had not. She was a runaway from Taldor. A refugee from Andoran.

Bree frowned and sheathed the scimitar. The mold receded from her arm, disappearing. She reached for her copper tankard and poured some wine from her water skin into it.

"Please, Cayden Cailean, Drunken Lord, Lucky Drunk, hear my prayers." she pleaded. She raised her mug to the ceiling. "Help me."

She tried to sort through the memories.

Help me.

A calm washed over her. It helped her find herself amid the tumbled events that resided in her mind. She smiled. She could do this. Her lord was helping her. It was only a matter of time before -

"Want some company?"

Bree was jolted from her prayers with a jump. The voices overtook her.

Trevvis stood before her, cautious. He had a pained look in his eyes.

"I... No..." she mumbled.

Trevvis frowned. "I see."

"No, I..." Bree paused, raising her hands to her head. "I need to be alone for now." She tried to hold on to the present, desperate to keep herself. Why was it so hard?

Trevvis nodded. "I'll just be around then, I guess."

Bree shook her head. "No. Yes. No!"

Trevvis backed away, confused.

"I need to pray," she managed to stutter. "To concentrate."

"Okay, Star Flower. Okay."

And then he was gone again, and Bree was alone. She frowned as she tried to fight her way through the emotions coursing through her. She clutched her holy symbol tightly to her chest.

Why would he leave her? Couldn't he see she needed him?

Bree desperately tried to concentrate.

Who was she? Who did she need?

Someone sat behind her and wrapped their arms around her.

"It's okay, Bree."

Bree? Bree. She was Bree.

"I'm here."

Bree nodded. They were here. She was here. She raised her tankard and prayed.

"Help me, my Lord. _Please_."


	21. Chapter 20: Surfacing

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Twenty

Surfacing

Bree came to three days later in the Shrine of Vardishal. Her belongings lay about the room, placed with obvious care. Tempest lay in her lap, sheathed. Someone held her.

"You're awake?" Trevvis asked from across the room. "For real, this time?"

Bree smiled and nodded, sitting up.

Behind her, Santon stirred.

"What are you doing back there?" she asked.

Santon laughed and let her go. "Just taking advantage of you while you were unconscious."

Bree remembered drifting, lost, but someone holding her, keeping her here, grounded. She had thought it was Trevvis but she had, apparently, been wrong.

Santon stood up. "You were delusional. You told Trevvis to leave, but kept mumbling for help." He shrugged and rubbed his eyes. "And you were freezing. Someone had to keep you warm."

"Thank you," Bree said.

Trevvis frowned.

"Well," Santon continued. "Best return to my many admirers. I'm sure they've been lost without me."

Bree smiled. Santon nodded to her once, and left.

Trevvis sat in the corner, brooding. "He likes you, you know."

Bree frowned. "He's just a friend."

"Sure." Trevvis muttered bitterly.

"Besides, he'd rather be with every other woman in this camp over me."

"And yet, he wasn't."

Bree sighed. "It's not like that, Trevvis."

"Well, you certainly enjoyed his company."

"I wasn't well."

"Weren't you?"

"No." Bree growled. "I wasn't."

"You told me to leave you alone." Trevvis said. "You didn't tell him that."

"You should have known that I didn't mean what I said."

"Like he did?"

Bree rose to her feet, suddenly angry. Santon had saved her! She had been drifting - lost in a sea of endless memories that weren't her own - and it was him that had brought her back. _Santon_.

It should have been Trevvis.

"Yes!" she shouted.

Trevvis reached for her hand. "When you tell me something, Star Flower, I listen." he said through gritted teeth.

Bree paused, sadly. "You should have known, Trevvis."

"Known what? To ignore you?"

Bree rose her eyes defiantly. "It should have been you! You should have been the one holding me!"

"You wanted Santon!" he shouted. He stepped closer to her and waved his arm towards the entrance to the room.

"No! You _let_ Santon do it, because you were afraid!"

"Afraid?" he scoffed.

"Yes. Afraid! I scared you, and so you let me go!"

Trevvis grabbed her by the arms fiercely and pulled her closer. "I was afraid I had lost you!"

Bree looked into his eyes and saw fear. He let go of her and deflated - sinking into himself. "I was afraid I had lost you to him."

Bree shook her head. "You'll never lose me, Trevvis. Never."

Trevvis reached out to her and wrapped her in his arms. He leaned his head on her shoulder and sighed. "I'm afraid, one day, you'll change your mind."

Bree raised his face to hers. She kissed him softly on the lips. He kissed her back, desperately, pushing her back up against the gold-plated walls. His lips traced a line across her jaw, behind her ear, and then down her neck, to her collarbone. She gasped, ran her fingers through his hair, and pulled him down to her.

They made love there, in the Shrine, against the crumbling, creaking stone walls with the saints looking down upon them from their gilded perches.

Trevvis placed his head upon Bree's shoulder when they were finished and ran his fingers across her naked chest.

"You are a hard woman to please, Star Flower."

She shivered, still tingling all over. "Oh?" she managed to mumble.

He nodded and pinched her chest firmly. "Yes."

"You're lying," she groaned in satisfaction.

"No. We should practice more often."

She laughed gently and they fell silent. Content. Hours passed.

Eventually, Trevvis stirred. "What was it, Star Flower, that was wrong?"

Bree frowned and rolled over, burrowing her face into his chest. "I was hearing voices," she began slowly. "Seeing things; memories that weren't my own."

Trevvis held her in his arms and rubbed her back gently.

"I was..." Bree paused, searching for the right word. "Drifting. Lost. I couldn't sort myself out from everything else. I prayed to be saved. For the voices to stop. Someone's touch anchored me in the present, in my body. Eventually, my mind came back."

"Santon brought you back."

Bree shook her head. "No, Trevvis. I thought it was you. You brought me back."

He tightened his grip upon her. "I'm sorry, Star Flower," he breathed. "It should have been me."

Bree smiled. "It's alright, Trevvis." she said. But she was lying. It wasn't alright. It wouldn't be alright. It _couldn't_.

Because Trevvis was right.

It should have been him.

* * *

Author's Note:  
Although I don't normally make comments after a chapter, as I feel it takes away from the story, I feel the need to point out that an alternate, x-rated version of this chapter exists. As an author it felt like a cop out to not write an actual sex scene and this seemed like the perfect place. HOWEVER, due to Paizo's Community Use Policy (and this websites rating rules) it cannot be posted. So, for those of us who wish this scene was a bit more thorough, please rest assured that I agree with you. Take comfort knowing that it exists out there, somewhere, although it can never see the light of day.  
Thank you for understanding and sorry for the tease.


	22. Chapter 21: Change

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Twenty-one

Change

A lot had changed in the time Bree had been distant. The caravan members arrived at the promised time and soon spread out through the monastery, staking out rooms for their own.

Santon stayed with the mercenaries in the old chapter house and Bree soon discovered, to her horror, that the Shrine where she was staying with Trevvis shared at least one wall in common with Santon's. In addition she found that sound carried quite far among the empty rooms of the monastery, Kallien _could_ make noise (though it sounded more like husky breathing than anything) and apparently, Santon was more than capable of keeping multiple woman entertained at the same time. Bree wasn't entirely sure how Utarchus could stand to stay with both Dullen and Yesper, _and_ Santon, Brotis and Kallien, but he managed. Perhaps he was a heavy sleeper.

Almah and Garavel had chosen the library as their quarters. The mercenaries whispered that the two of them were probably quite close by now, but Bree doubted it. Almah seemed to view Garavel strictly as an employee, while Garavel seemed utterly incapable of strong emotions. If they did share anything intimate together it was likely companionable silence.

The Guards had warmed little to the rest of they party. They chose the deanery next to the library as their chambers and still stood guard outside of Almah's room at all hours. Though they could, on occasion, be convinced to share in a conversation or two, they remained vigilant in their duties above all else.

Hadrah and Hadrod took up residence in the kitchen and had not only cleaned it to an impressive shine, but were also churning out regular meals. Though Bree was sure they had to get creative in their ingredients and stretch their supplies rather far, the food was delicious.

Dashki had grudgingly taken the old mess hall as his room, sleeping under one of the remaining parts of the ceiling. He had affixed the pugwampi king's crown to the crisp pugwampi corpse dangling from his staff and seemed quite proud of the addition. Santon told her it was a gift from Nes, as an apology for doubting him. Bree found the sheer idea of _that_ rather hard to believe. She thought it far more likely that the filthy tracker scared him, and he had offered it to him as a gift in the hopes of turning Dashki's aggression elsewhere.

Nes and Fudin were sleeping in the dormitory next to the mess hall and across from the library. They had cleared all signs of the old residents out, replacing it instead with two large feather beds and an armoire of clothing. Despite their luxurious accommodations, Nes still had a further wagon of belongings that were unable to fit in the room.

Finally, Father Zastoran had chosen to spend his time in the laboratory. Bree had not yet gone down there to visit him, but she heard he had cleared out all traces of the molds and slimes and moved his extensive potion collection in with him.

In addition, someone had trimmed down half of the plants in the central courtyard while the chapel had been entirely cleaned and rededicated to the Dawnflower. Nes had even managed to salvage some of the religious articles they found scattered around and polish them up. The place still needed a lot of work, of course, masonry was falling down regularly and dust, filth and debris were still knee deep in some places, but it was a vast improvement. With a little time and care, this monastery would be serviceable again.

Bree stood now, with Santon, Nes and Fudin, before Almah in the library. She wore her typical regal clothing, though without the veils, as well as kohl around her eyes, though no perfume. Still, she had been burning incense, and smelt softly of sandalwood.

"You have met and exceeded my expectations," she began by saying. "I am impressed."

Santon smiled. "I'm sure there is much more I could do for you, my lady, that would impress."

Bree rolled her eyes and Almah smiled. "So I have heard."

Garavel stepped forward. He seemed almost agitated. "The Princess Roveshki called the four of you here on business."

Santon nodded. "Of course, Garavel, my friend."

"What would you have us do, Princess?" Nes asked with a bow of his head.

"Now that we have secured the monastery, I task the four of you with scouting out the town of Kelmarane and determining our best method of attack."

Nes nodded, but Santon sighed dramatically. "That sounds quite dangerous, my lady."

Almah smiled. "It does, doesn't it? It is fortunate that this is the original task I hired you for, else I might have to renegotiate your wages."

"It would, of course, take a days worth of scouting before we could return with any information," Santon replied smoothly.

"Of course," Almah agreed.

"And much planning is needed," Santon continued. "As it is getting late I suggest everyone get some sleep, while Princess Roveshki and I go over her expectations of us."

Nes paused. "I am rather tired," he said.

Bree shook her head. Nes was either completely ignorant of Santon's motives, or was pretending not to notice so as to maintain Almah's honour. To Bree's surprise, Almah nodded.

"I do have some concerns I would like to raise with you," she said.

"I'm sure I can put them to rest."

"The rest of you may go," Almah said after a moment.

Bree nodded, while Nes and Fudin bowed.

"And you, Garavel." Almah said.

Garavel froze. He led the others out of the room without a word.

"Bree," Nes asked once the door had shut behind them. "Might I have a word?"

Curious, Bree nodded. "Of course."

Nes stood as straight as he could, and adopted a rather official sounding tone. "Do you recall the torn and wrecked copy of _The Birth of Light and Truth_ we found in the Chapel?"

"Yes, why?"

"In the process of cleaning I collected all the pages, which were remarkably free of wear, and, upon completion, found that the entire tome was accounted for. It was missing not a single page." He paused, drawing the book - now rebound in a light brown leather cover - from one of his long, flowing sleeves. "As you seemed quite distraught at the disgraceful state of the Chapel, but were unable to aid in its rebirth I thought you might like to keep it."

Bree eyed the book, stunned. Nes was giving her a gift?

He held it out to her and placed it in her hands. "I already possess my own copy, of course and so had no need for a second, despite its historical significance."

Bree smiled, taking the book from him. "Of course."

"And I noticed you rather liked books..."

"My thanks, Nes."

"Yes, well, I find your patron a little... rustic and thought you might enjoy a longer religious liturgy to peruse."

Bree laughed. The holy text of Cayden Cailean consisted of a series of one sentence sayings mounted on plaques at the backs of bars. Though catchy, they were not the most literary of works.

Nes cleared his throat. "We are all glad to have you back." He bowed to her deeply and then turned and left.

Bree smiled as she looked at the book in her hands. "Sweet barleybrew..."

Had she actually become friends with a noble? _Her?_ Perhaps a good deal more had changed around here than she thought.


	23. Chapter 22: The Howl of the Carrion King

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Twenty-two

The Howl of the Carrion King

Bree awoke that night to the sound of an eerie howling.

"What was that?" she asked Trevvis, who lay naked beside her.

He groaned. "What was what, Star Flower?

"That howling."

He frowned and rolled over, turning his back to her. "There's howling every night."

She sat up as another loud howl pierced the night sending a shiver up her spine. She frowned. "And you don't care what it is?"

"We're in gnoll lands, Star Flower. There is always howling."

Bree shook her head and stood up, pulling on her pants, boots and a loose blouse which still possessed a few buttons. "Not like this," she replied, but Trevvis had already fallen back asleep.

She left the room, walking quickly past the cloister walk, through the ruined nave, and out into the cool, dark night.

Dashki sat outside, taking his turn on watch. His head was tilted slightly and his eyes were closed.

"What is it?" Bree asked him.

He gazed at her, his eyes almost reflective in the moonlight, and licked his lips. "That is the howl of the Carrion King."

"The Carrion King?"

"He is a brutish gnoll who united a great deal of tribes under his banner. They say he leads them from somewhere within the Brazen Peaks."

"And it's his gnolls who are in Kelmarane?"

"So it seems."

"Do you know what they are saying?"

"Conversation doesn't travel over such long distances, only the noise itself."

"Then why call out each night?"

"He's checking. Making sure his forces still live, and still obey."

Bree nodded. It made sense. "Are all the gnolls in the region under his control?"

Dashki frowned. "Yes, though it was not always so. The Three Jaws Tribe is one who chafes under his rule, though they flourish under him all the same. He also controls the Al'Chorhaiv, the Circle and the Wormhollow gnolls as well as many small bands of raiders."

"How do you know so much about the gnolls of the Brazen Peaks?" Bree asked after a moment. "I thought you were from Solku."

He frowned and gritted his teeth. "You think I would have come this far into gnoll lands without knowing their affiliations?"

"No, I just - "

"Just thought I was stupid?"

"No."

Dashki snorted. "You mock me."

Bree got up and turned to leave. "Never mind." There was plenty of better company.

"Tell your friend to stay away from the Princess."

Bree smiled. "Jealous, Dashki?"

He stood up, turned to her and stepped within arms reach. "There are not many women on this caravan." He sneered and grabbed her by the wrist. "It would be in your best interest to see the Princess unattached."

"Let go of me, Dashki, or you will regret it."

"Oh, your man will come save you? He snores so loud not even your screams would wake him."

Bree tore her wrist from his grip and punched him in the face, sending Dashki sprawling to the ground. "Keep your hands off of me," she spat.

He growled, but did not make a move against her. She turned and headed back inside.

"Keep down your braying tonight, woman, else I might take it as an invitation," Dashki called at her as she walked away.

She scowled, but didn't respond. That was the last time she would bother trying to be nice to _him_. The dog. She stalked away angrily, cursing under her breath.

"Hey, Bree!" Santon called to her, as she passed through the cloister walk. He was wearing only loose linen pants and was coated with sweat. "I didn't think I'd see you up so late. Fighting with Trevvis?"

Bree shook her head. "Fighting with Dashki."

Santon smiled. "Isn't everyone?"

Bree's frown lessened. "I suppose. What are you doing walking around so late? Did Almah get sick of you already?"

"Our business was concluded."

Bree scrunched up her nose in distaste. "Excuse me?"

"I told you it was strictly business."

Bree frowned in disbelief. "I'm sure."

He shrugged. "Best not besmirch the reputation of our employer." he said with a wink.

Bree scoffed. "Oh yes, because _everyone_ will believe you were alone with Almah, until late at night, talking business."

"I also read her fortune."

Bree laughed. "Really? From what, the tone of her grunting?"

"Well, aren't you crude this evening!" he chuckled. "But, if you must know I read her palm."

"Really?" Bree asked in disbelief. "What did it say?"

Santon shrugged. "I don't know."

Bree laughed again, "So she kicked you out for being a fraud?"

He smiled. "No. I left."

Bree raised an eyebrow in shock. "You left? By choice?"

"Yeah, I figured Garavel would like to sleep in his room, instead of in the hall."

"How kind of you," she said sarcastically. "I'm sure he was thrilled."

"Hey!" Santon protested. "I'm a nice guy!"

Bree rolled her eyes. "Sure you are."

Santon reached out a hand, touched the top of her head, and messed up her hair. "Aren't you sweet?" he taunted.

She frowned. "Cut it out!"

"Oh, I almost forgot!" He dug into his pocket and pulling out two items. "These are for you."

Bree opened her hand and accepted a tiny box, no more than the size of her fingernail, hanging on a leather cord, and a silver ring shaped like a wreath of feathers. "You're giving me a ring?"

Santon laughed. "There were some items around here that we couldn't find a home for. They didn't belong in any of the graves, or in the chapel. This is your share. Nes says the box is some kind of relic dedicated to that Lucky Drunk of yours, and the ring can protect you from harm when you fall."

"When I fall?"

"For next time you decide to take a dive from the rafters."

"Keep the ring, Santon."

Santon shook his head. "It's yours."

"You almost died when you fell, not me."

"Only cause I broke your fall."

"Just keep it. You're a drunken preacher. You'll need it more than I do."

"Fine, fine. Just be sure to get some sleep tonight, we've got lots of work ahead of us tomorrow."

Bree snorted. "You should take your own advice."

Santon sighed. "It's hard to be as in demand as myself. But, I think I'm done with women tonight."

"I'm sure Brotis will have something else to say about that."

"She can say all she wants. I'm going to sleep."

Bree laughed as she entered her room. "Good luck."

Santon chuckled before disappearing behind a wall. "I mean it! I'll go sleep by the camels if I have to."

Bree shook her head and slipped into bed beside Trevvis.

Through the walls she heard Brotis complain. "What were you doing up with _her_?"

"Oh, quiet, Brotis, we were just talking."

"Well, I'm talking to you now, don't roll over!"

"I'm going to sleep, Brotis."

"I'm not finished with you," Brotis purred.

Bree covered her ears. Ugh. She didn't need to hear this!

"Haven't you had enough, yet? I heard you all night with the guards."

"You mean while you were with that rich whore?"

"Okay, Brotis. I'm done."

"Where are you going?"

"Away. I'm going away. To sleep."

Through the walls Bree heard Santon get up, and Brotis follow.

"You're going to _her_, aren't you?"

"Honestly, I was going to see Dashki, since he's the only man you won't spend time with."

"Well, maybe I will."

"As you wish," Santon said with a laugh. Bree saw him stalk angrily across the cloister walk from her bedroll.

"Just let him go," Utarchus groaned. "You're keeping everyone up."

Beside Bree, Trevvis started snoring - a jarring sound like a rumbling storm that easily drowned out Brotis' complaining - and, for the first time, Bree was thankful. She smiled and slowly drifted off to sleep.


	24. Chapter 23: Tempest

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Twenty-three

Tempest

Bree sat in her room, eyeing the sheathed scimitar in her lap. It was a fine weapon. Much better than her own. But it scared her.

The weapon had belonged to someone else before her. Someone powerful. Whoever that person was, their very will had become tied to the blade, investing it with a sort of sentience. Not a personality or a will of its own, simply an urge. A need to see its previous owners duties completed. Their goals achieved.

It no longer seeped memories or feelings into Bree's consciousness and, if it began to again, Bree was certain she could control it. Still, she was cautious. What if the blade's purpose clashed with her own?

She couldn't recall much of the torrent of images and feelings the blade had assaulted her with, just fleeting emotions and impressions. They were like water, slipping through her fingers whenever she tried to grasp them. She did, however, have the strange feeling that the blade, Tempest, was meant for good. That it's purpose coincided with her own. More importantly, she had the feeling that even though she was not its original owner, Tempest had been calling out to her. Waiting for her.

She smiled, having made up her mind, and drew the beautiful blade from its sheath. It filled her with a cool, calm feeling, diminishing the oppressive heat around her. A now familiar green mold crawled up her right arm as she held it and stopped at her elbow.

It belonged to her now. It was a part of her.

She replaced the sword in its sheath, strapped it around her waist, and left the Shrine to meet up with her comrades.

There was work to be done. Kelmarane was calling.


	25. Chapter 24: Scouts

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Twenty-four

Scouts

Bree lay in the dirt under the setting desert sun. She, Nes, Fudin and Santon had spent the entire day circling Kelmarane from a distance, watching. And now, finally, fourteen hours later, they had made it back to the monastery.

"Well, that was unfortunate." Santon said, throwing himself down in the dirt beside her.

Nes nodded. "Quite."

"They are well prepared," Fudin acknowledged. "I counted at least twenty-five different gnolls throughout the day, and a few that I wasn't sure if I had seen before."

Bree nodded. "They operated in groups of no less than four, and don't seem to follow a set schedule."

"There was a strange goat-man wandering around the lower slopes of the town," Nes put in. "He is not of this world, though whether he hails from Hell, the Abyss, or Abaddon I can't be certain."

Santon nodded. "It makes no difference, he'll be tough no matter his home plane."

"One of the ruined structures near the base of the town's upper slopes holds some kind of beast. I couldn't tell what kind," Fudin added. "But a group of six heavily armed gnolls brought it a large amount of meat at least three times."

"I saw that," Bree replied. "There's another creature in the mill, as well. They brought it a goat."

Santon sighed. "We'll have to use hit and run tactics for a few days, at least until their numbers have dwindled sufficiently."

"Agreed," Nes said. "Though, I worry that they may receive reinforcements."

"Dashki said that these gnolls were affiliated with those in the Brazen Peaks," Bree put in. She pointed at the mountain range in the distance behind Kelmarane. "It's likely reinforcements would come from the north, if they did."

"There is a fort in that direction," Fudin stated. "My eyes were not keen enough to make out any movement or details, but it is a likely location for the gnolls to utilize."

"There's also some kind of shrine or temple to the east, across the river. They could be occupying that, as well," Santon added.

Nes nodded. "I suggest we circle around Kelmarane, cutting off any possible lines of retreat or aid from both the Shrine and the Fort, before moving against Kelmarane itself. When the time does come to attack Kelmarane, your tactics are sound, Santon. Though guerilla warfare is rather base, we would be quickly overwhelmed in a pitched battle against the gnolls."

"One last thing," Fudin cut in. "Did anyone notice something strange about the old pesh fields south and west of Kelmarane?"

He was met with silence.

"No, why?" Santon asked.

"I'm not sure. I thought I saw a sort of shifting of the earth within. As if something large were tunneling or digging through the fields. It could have been a play of the light."

"Did anyone see any gnolls approach the fields?" Nes asked. "At all?"

Bree shook her head.

"Best avoid it, for now. We can investigate it later if an answer does not provide itself."

"So we'll go around it, then?" Bree asked. She glanced at the horizon, "To the shrine first?"

Nes nodded. "Yes. I shall inform Princess Roveshki of our decision. That is, unless Santon would prefer to?"

To Bree's surprise, Santon shook his head. "I'll leave that to you this time, Nes. Our lady Almah's not worth the effort."

Bree raised an eyebrow.

"How rude!" Nes sputtered, shocked at Santon's disrespect. "She is a noble woman," he muttered to Fudin. He and his brother walked away, switching to a foreign language that Bree couldn't identify as they did.

"Not in the mood for company, tonight?" Bree asked Santon after they had left.

He smiled. "Some one has to watch the town during the night."

"I can do it," Bree offered. "I haven't taken a turn at night watch, yet."

He shook his head. "It's Trevvis' turn on watch. I doubt we'd be very safe with the two of you on duty together."

Bree shrugged. "Very well. I'm going in to get something to eat."

"You rotten tease!" Santon exclaimed. "Bring me something, yeah?"

Bree laughed. "With comments like that you'll be lucky if I bring you rotten meat!"


	26. Chapter 25: Refuge of the All-Seeing Eye

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Twenty-five

The Refuge of the All-Seeing Eye

Bree stood alongside Santon, Fudin and Nes before a crumbling, ancient temple. They had left Sarenrae's Monastery at dawn, traveled for over two hours along the old, abandoned trade roads skirting Kelmarane, forded their way through a swift flowing river, and finally arrived before the old shrine.

Harsh winds whispered through the badlands around them. Their cruel touch had long since withered all but the hardiest of desert life. Dust and bits of debris danced across the ground, carried by the scorching breeze. It scratched roughly at Bree's tender skin. Ahead, the ruins of ancient walls, nearly twenty paces high were flanked by two towering statues, their features sand-blasted into anonymity.

They approached the walls cautiously. Bree pulled up to the statues, rubbing her hands along their worn surface. They were crumbling, but still stood strong. She couldn't tell who they depicted. The battered, limestone walls were uneven and bumpy. They had obviously once held carvings and friezes, but the scouring desert wind had taken their toll. Bree couldn't identify a single image. To her left, Nes reached out to one of the pillars.

"This structure is ancient," he mouthed in awe. "Centuries old, at least."

Beyond the walls a gaping doorway led into a forest of stone pillars, mostly buried beneath stone and debris. It was a roofless, colonnaded hall. The temple interior. Two rectangular depressions ran across the rubble-strewn floor. They were choked with thorny, desert weeds but looked like they might have once held water.

A breeze drifted lazily past Bree, carrying the pungent stench of decay. She drew Tempest from its sheath at her hip, causing the oppressive heat to lighten slightly. A voice called out across the chamber, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere, all at once. It spoke in a language Bree did not understand.

They waited, eyeing every crumbling pillar with suspicion.

"Bathe thy feet in the sacred waters," Nes repeated aloud. He began moving his hands in a series of gestures, and then spoke, "Halavim hanavim habiqavim. Kaleem iban halkwan!" His eyes took on a white glow and he looked around. He smiled. "The voice is but an illusory spell, meant to give direction to the visitors of the shine. There is also traces of faint conjuration magic from the fountainheads near the dry pools and... something else." He frowned as he moved forward to a large stone that was rather free of dust.

"Careful, brother." Fudin warned, following a step behind him.

Nes reached down, behind the stone and pulled out a strangely shaped hunk of gold. "These treasures are recent." He paused, stood and looked around once more. "I see no other magic nearby. The smell is real. Something lurks nearby." His eyes dimmed and ceased their magical glowing. He crouched down once more, removing a pile of tarnished silver coins, an intricate bronze scarab pin, which he fastened onto his elaborate robes and a copper mask carved in the image of the holy symbol of Nethys, the same god that Father Zastoran worshipped.

Nes held the mask in his hands thoughtfully. A wide smile spread across his face. "I believe we stand in the Refuge of the All-Seeing Eye."

Bree frowned. "The what?"

"It is an ancient temple. Lost centuries ago. No one knows its exact location, only that it lies somewhere within the Uwaga Highlands. It was built by reclusive priests of Nethys in a place where the 'Breath of Nethys' was said to seep from the ground, inspiring all who drew near with visions from the god of magic himself. There, the priests studied the dualistic nature of magic, devoting half of the temple to magic's protective and creative aspects, and the other half to its destructive aspect. It was also said to be home to the Nethysian Seers, priests who had unlocked such deep, inner truths about the nature of magic that they had gone mad. Their knowledge drove them to insanity."

"This place is likely very dangerous, my brother."

Nes smiled. "It is full of magic, Fudin. Of course it is dangerous."

Santon turned to an opening in the wall. "How about we worry less about the purpose of this place, and more about the smell. Let us find its source before whatever caused it, finds us."

Bree nodded. "Agreed."

Reluctantly, Fudin followed, an excited Nes directly behind him.

Bree and Santon crept forward, sniffing at the air, following the stench of rotting flesh through a maze of pillars and around a corner, into a large, open room nearly thirty paces across and twenty wide. The corpse of a small, strange human-like creature, with monstrous facial features and long, tentacle-like clawed arms lay in the corner, with its insides torn out.

Bree gagged at the stench it gave off. It smelt as if its insides had been infected with some kind of rot, before they even began to decay.

Something shifted in the debris to her right and four massive spiders, each slightly bigger than a man, leapt out from behind the pile of rocks. Santon pushed Bree out of the way of the spiders, landing on the rough ground with her. He stood immediately and helped her to her feet.

The spiders stood between Bree and Santon, and Nes and Fudin, separating them into two groups. Two of the spiders scurried forward, towards Bree and Santon, while the other two turned on the brothers.

Bree slashed at the nearest spider with Tempest, striking the hairy arachnid in one of its thick, segmented legs while Santon swung his heavy broadsword at its partner. The spiders scuttled around them, eyeing them with their large eyes, and clacking their mandibles. A slimy, foul smelling substance dripped from their fangs.

A spider lunged forward, towards Bree. She twisted her body out of the way, ducking under its poisonous fangs. She slashed out at it with her scimitar, this time slicing the rest of the way through its thick, hairy leg. It let out a kind of hissing sound, and bit at her again. She threw herself to the side. The fangs scraped against her chain shirt, leaving a slick, green trail along its surface.

"Broken tankard!" she cursed, throwing herself to the side of another bite. She neared the far wall now and was running short on room. She held her copper tankard in one hand, and Tempest in the other.

"Come on!" she cried, drawing the spider in again, praying to Cayden Cailean for luck.

This time she dove over the spider, causing it to creep slightly up the wall to avoid crashing into it. She ran up alongside the spider, driving her glimmering blade into its soft abdomen. The spider screamed and she ripped her blade to the side, tearing it open and causing its inside to pour out onto the ground below it. It shuddered and fell to the ground.

Bree wiped her gore encrusted blade off on the spiders hairy hide and turned, just in time to see Santon chop the second spider in half with a great heave of his sword.

Across the room, Fudin punched and kicked a spider mercilessly, diving over it, sliding under it, and tumbling around it to dodge the spiders dripping fangs. Nes poured flames from his hands, roasting the second spider alive in a towering cylinder of brilliant, orange fire. It screamed and Bree ran forward, aiming to help Fudin. She made it no more than twenty paces before Fudin leapt atop the spider and breathed a line of crackling electricity directly into its face. As it fell, he rode its quivering, lifeless body to the ground. He stepped off of it as if there were nothing strange about the encounter. As if he rode giant, vicious spiders daily.

Nes smiled, snuffing the flames with a motion. He rearranged his robes and turned, nodding at Bree.

"Well?" he said impatiently. "What keeps you? Let us be off."


	27. Chapter 26: The Chamber of Choices

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Twenty-six

The Chamber of Choices

Nes led the way into the next chamber, with his brother struggling to keep up with him, a first as far as Bree knew.

A sense of restrained power permeated the dusty air of the dimly lit room. It was the first roofed portion of the ruin they had come across and looked to be in fairly good shape, considering. A series of carvings on the walls depicted a radiant figure. He was shown commanding legions of elementals to build cities, forcing raging seas to calm and intimidating warring armies to cease their hostility. One of the arms on the carving moved erratically, banging its tiny stone blade against the wall. To the west, through a gaping hole in the wall, four falcon-headed statues stood guard over a broad flagstone which stuck up into the air awkwardly.

Nes strode triumphantly through the room, straight to the side of the flagstone. He eyed it for a moment before raising a manicured hand.

"Fudin, Santon," he said regally. "Lift this."

Bree frowned, but Santon and Fudin moved ahead and hoisted the stone up from the floor with a great heave.

Bree strode up to Nes. "Quit being so rude! If you want to get under there lift it yourself."

He turned to her with exasperation. "You need to learn your weaknesses and strengths, Bree. I know mine and they know theirs. Leave the grunt work to those who will not tire from it."

Bree scowled. "Are you saying you asked them because they're big and strong, and _we're_ not?"

He smiled at her with condescension thick in his gaze. "Perhaps you could aid them, but you would wear out far faster than they. Best leave it to them. And while we're debating this topic, best you leave the planning to me. It's not your best skill."

Bree eyes widened. "Excuse me?! What exactly are my strengths?"

Nes quirked an eyebrow. "You are an emotional being, which is not only your greatest strength, but also your greatest weakness."

"That's it? I have feelings?"

"You grate on my nerves. Enough talk. Let us be off!"

Bree frowned as Santon and Fudin moved to follow him. "We're not finished with this, Nes! You're the leaky keg! Not me!"

Below the trapdoor was a shaft at least thirty feet deep, covered with bas-relief carvings of men and beasts.

"Plenty of handholds." Fudin pointed out. "Climb upon my back, brother, and I will carry you down."

"Agreed. I know my limitations." He climbed atop his brother's back.

Bree frowned at him as she watched Fudin descend the shaft with ease.

Santon smiled at her. "I bet you wish you had kept the ring now."

Bree raised an eyebrow at him, but he made no further response. He simply leapt off the edge of the stone floor. Impossibly, a torrent of feathers exploded below him, causing him to drift softly to the ground below. As he landed they soared back into the ring, disappearing in a matter of moments.

Santon smiled up at her and she gazed back down in awe. Maybe she was a little jealous...

"Oh, wipe that smile from your face!" she called down to him. She sat down carefully upon the lip of the shaft then turned and reached one of her feet down, over the edge, placing it in between the carved figures. She shifted her weight onto it, carefully, and then slowly swung her other leg over the edge until it, too, found purchase upon the wall. Sweat beaded up on her head as she clung to the edge of the shaft. She swallowed her nervousness and frowned, imaging Nes watching her smugly from the ground below.

"Here I go, my lord," she prayed. "Cayden's luck find me and help a fellow avoid a fall." She descended the shaft slowly. As she neared the bottom she leapt the last five feet to the ground.

"Way to slow us down," Santon said with a smile. He clapped her on the back and pulled her close. "Let me ferry you down next time, yeah?"

She smiled and shook her head then punched him lightly in the chest. "How about you keep your hands to yourself?"

"Alas," he cried halfheartedly. "You'll fawn for me yet! And you, Fudin, climb better than those spiders we passed."

Fudin smiled slightly and nodded.

Nes crouched at the bottom of the shaft with glowing eyes, inspecting a shattered stone slab. It was decorated with images of eagles and feathers. "This temple was truly a wonder for its age. This platform would have magically levitated up and down the shaft whenever one had use of it."

"It flew?" Bree asked.

He paused for a moment, but then nodded his head. "You could call it that, I suppose, albeit quite slowly. It was an elevator."

"A what?"

"An elevator. It elevated and descended the shaft with people standing atop it. Quite ingenious, really. It would have taken rather powerful spells to create."

He stood, blew the dust from his hands and continued down a short hallway into a large, high-ceilinged room. Ceramic lamps hung from the walls, illuminating it with a cadaverous blue light. To the southwest, in a curved niche, a baboon-headed stone figure crouched menacingly. Across from it, in the northeast niche, a stern-looking pharaoh glared. Carved folds of well-sculpted cloth enshrouded the northwest statue and in the southeast niche the pharaoh was again depicted although this time his face was scarred and twisted with anger. Three arches led from the chamber. Fragments of shattered doors were strewn across the floor. The room was heavy with the harsh scent of bitterbark.

Bree stepped into the room and approached one of the statues.

Nes raised an arm, barring her way. "No."

She batted his hand out of the way.

"The statues depict rather obscure destructive magical spirits," he explained with a sigh. He rubbed his arm where she had slapped him. "They are wrapped in evocation magic and will pour flames upon you for touching them."

Bree scowled and mumbled an apology under her breath.

Fudin walked to one of the archways and crouched above the broken remains of its door. "Something with great fangs tore this down and ripped it apart."

Through the southern archway drifted a lonesome piping sound. Nes cocked his head and smiled. "Another illusion," he said gleefully. "The remains of once powerful arcane magics hang about this place like a veil. Their powers have faded over time, leaving only fragments behind; half formed music, light and other effects. I admit to some professional jealousy."

Santon laughed. "Let's see what else we can find, shall we?"

Nes smiled and led the way into the southern archway which Fudin crouched before.

Bree followed closely behind them. As she passed into the next room a foul, metallic miasma assaulted her. The vast chamber she found herself in was some sort of worship hall. Frescoes depicting radiant figures destroying worlds, fighting wars and causing havoc covered the walls. Some of the carvings sparked with red, crackling electricity.

The lofty ceiling was supported by large square columns which were covered in strange runes and glyphs. The entire room was lit by a series of glass lamps which dangled from the roof on green chains. They radiated a pallid, bluish light that pulsed and flickered. Strange shadows danced about the chamber.

Across the room, at the far end, stood an alabaster altar carved in the shape of winged, scale-covered bulls. It radiated an eerie blue glow.

Bree frowned. This place was ominous.

Nes eyed the pillars in awe. "These contain spells."

"Are they dangerous, brother?"

He shook his head. "No. They are like my spellbook. They hold knowledge for those who can discern their secrets." He traced his hands along the first of the pillars with care. "This one is a spell I know well. If its essence could be forced into words it would be translated as Burning Hands."

Fudin cocked an eyebrow. "No knowledge you do not possess, then?"

"Some, I know. Others I do not." He traced his hands along another pillar reverently. "I will come back after we have delved deeper into the complex. I would learn the knowledge stored here."

Bree frowned as she eyed the carvings upon the walls. They were all of death. "Maybe you shouldn't. It looks like these might be evil spells."

Nes shook his head. "Magic is not neither good, nor evil. It simply is. Those who know how to wield it, how to tear its essence from its natural state and manipulate it to ones own whims can cause it to manifest in a myriad of ways. It is the user who bends the spell for good or evil, not the magic itself."

Bree shook her head. "No. A spell which heals cannot do evil in the hands of an evil man. It heals. It is naturally a good spell, just as one which kills and maims can only bring death."

"And what of that sword at your hip, then? What evil does it wreak?"

"It is for protection."

"It is a tool made to kill and therefore, by your own logic, can only do evil, no matter the user."

"No." Bree answered, raising her voice. "A sword is not the same as magic."

"What do you know of arcane spells, woman?" he spat, obviously upset. The magical glow left his eyes, leaving them a dark brown. "If you were to maintain your path with a steadfast faith, and continue your worship of your drunken, accidental god, you would access _divine_ magic. Power granted by the whim of the gods. That is not what lies here. Here lies the successive knowledge of men who spent their entire lives in pursuit of enlightenment. They worked for all they gained and were able to shape the world itself."

"They did so only with the blessing of their god."

"A god who was once mortal, and achieved godhood through his own powers. A god who taught that magic could be used for both good and evil. Both. At once."

Bree shook her head. He just didn't understand! "One cannot be both good and evil! Once evil has been done, it is done. It taints the soul. One can no longer be good, no matter what other deeds they have done previously, after an evil act is committed!"

"The people who made this were neither good, nor bad, but both. As are we all. Do not diminish their life's work with your naive ideals."

"We are all of us, either good, or evil. Not both."

Nes laughed. "Not even the gods are simply one or the other. We are all shades of grey."

Santon frowned. "Enough talk. You two won't agree and neither will either of you give up. We'll be here until we starve."

Fudin nodded. "Leave her, brother. We will return here afterwards."

Nes sighed, though his eyes bore deep into Bree's own. "You are a fool."

Bree growled. The man was infuriating! "May all the hangovers of all the drunks in Absalom be upon you!"

She stalked past Nes, back into the room filled with niches and through the final archway. As she neared it a lush, silken curtain shimmering with golden embroidery materialized. She ignored it, pushing her way past it's illusory folds into the room beyond.

The floor was covered with inches of untouched dust. The walls were covered with cobweb-strewn frescoes. In the west wall, a pair of niches held painted wooden statues of female sphinxes. They glared at Bree with menace from beneath layers of ancient filth. A third niche stood empty to the south, while a fourth, filled with rubble, lay to the north.

Bree eyed the room with confusion. That was it? Some magic temple! She stalked forward, to the sphinxes, with anger.

With a great creak, they shook their tails, sending a shower of dust flying at Bree. She backed up a pace as they stepped forward on four wooden legs, towards her.

The statues were alive, and they did _not_ look happy to see her.

Perhaps she should have let Nes go first...


	28. Chapter 27: Guardians of Lore

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Twenty-seven

The Guardians of Lore

Bree held Tempest out before her and frowned. "Don't leave me now, my Lord." she prayed.

The two large wooden sphinxes crouched low, and then pounced at her.

Bree threw herself forward and to the ground, diving under the wooden bellies of the creatures, and then rolled to the side, out from under them. She thrust forward with Tempest, plunging her blade no more than an inch into the wooden construct.

"Froth and foam." Bree cursed.

The sphinx, apparently unharmed, flexed its wing, tossing Bree into the wall. She fell to the floor on her knees. The sphinx padded forward on wooden paws.

A blast of bright lightning struck it in the chest, showering Bree in a hail of splinters and wooden shards.

"Vishayim..." a familiar voice shouted.

Bree cringed. She was inches from the creature. Nes would burn her to a crisp with those flames of his! Did he not see her?

"...vax voseth!"

"Bitter brew!" Bree cursed as she pressed her body as far against the wall as she could and clenched her eyes shut.

The roar of fire neared her but not a tendril touched her flesh. She opened her eyes. The sphinx turned from her to Nes. Fudin punched and kicked at the wooden creature, pummeling it with his bare flesh. Bree could hear Santon hacking at the second one with his broadsword but could not see him.

She stood, shook her head to clear the fogginess from it, and held her sword out before her.

"Vishayim vax voseth!" Nes shouted again, pointing at the sphinx. A thin, red line of flame shot out from his finger, struck the beast and seared into it, sending tendrils of smoke wafting into the air.

Bree sliced at the back of the sphinx, scattering wooden shards around her but causing no real harm to the beast.

"Froth and foam!" she growled in frustration. This was like a celebration with dry kegs!

Nes shot off another line of fire, Fudin roared lightning, and Santon swung his heavy blade, but still the sphinxes fought on, lashing out with paws, wings, and even their tails.

Bree backed up into the dead end niche. "My Lord," she prayed in confusion as she swung futilely at the sphinxes tail. "What should I do?"

A rank stench overtook her, and she gagged. Not only was she worthless this fight, but she had to get ill, too?

She groaned, raised Tempest high once more and ignored the scent. Wait! The smell had come from _behind_ her. She turned to the empty niche and felt at its bare walls frantically. Not even a crack marred its surface. She looked down at the floor and found it covered with chips of plaster, which had seemingly fallen from no where. This was impossible!

She growled angrily, clutched her holy symbol in her hand and stared at the perfectly smooth wall before her with unwavering, frustrated eyes. The wall wavered. Flickered, like a candle and then dissolved. The wall beneath was cracked and worn, crumbling with age. Set into it was a wooden door. Bree smiled, reached for it's handle and pushed the door open with ease.

"My thanks, Lord Cailean."

She stepped through the door and peered around swiftly. Nothing moved.

"Come!" she called loudly to her comrades. "Walk through the southern niche's wall!"

Santon broke off combat with the sphinx immediately, raced around it and dove right through the open doorway. His eyes widened as he passed through, as if he was expecting to meet with a solid wall. He landed in a pile at Bree's feet.

"There!" Nes called from the other room. "The wall is an illusion, brother!"

Fudin shook his head and opened his mouth, roaring a line of lightning out of his mouth, at the nearest sphinx. "I will cover you!"

Nes walked calmly through the door with Fudin directly behind him.

Bree threw herself at the door after they entered, hoping to bar the sphinxes entry, but found it unnecessary. As soon as Fudin's foot crossed the threshold into the next room the sphinxes both ceased their attacks, padded towards their pedestals, and laid down, still as they had been before.

They no longer sensed their presence?

Bree frowned and shut the door. Whoever had enchanted those wooden statues was clearly a few pints short of a keg.


	29. Chapter 28: The Chamber of Ablution

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Twenty-eight

The Chamber of Ablution

Bree stood in a room dominated by three spacious tubs. Large terra-cotta braziers partially filled with grit and sand were placed between them. Warped and decrepit racks lined the walls. Broken jugs and pottery lay on the floor below them in shattered fragments. Sagging stone shelves carved into the walls held dozens of small clay jars and bowls, many of which were still caked in rotting or dusty remnants of ancient pastes and herbs.

The stench Bree had smelt earlier emanated from a strange heap of debris in the rooms far corner. It seemed to be made from broken bits of furniture and hundreds of torn papyrus pages. A narrow hole led into the center of the pile. It was a nest of some sort.

"Bitter brew!" Could they have worse luck?

"Silence," Nes ordered.

Bree scowled.

Fudin roared, sending a bolt of lightning streaking across the room directly into the stinky nest. Something screeched from within and burst forth in an explosion of smoking papyrus and stone.

The creature was some kind of strange, hunched-over wretch with long, pliable arms like tentacles capped with five wide, spiny claws. It moved faster than the debris and wrapped its arm around Fudin's neck. His eyes bulged in surprise, but he issued no sound.

Nes ran forward as fast as his frail form would carry him, arcane words pouring from his lips. Behind her Santon let out a strangled cry. Something cold and rubbery slipped around Bree's neck from above. Tempest slipped from her grip as the noose hoisted her right off the ground. Bree let out the beginnings of a scream, but the noose tightened, cutting her off. She couldn't breathe. She looked up, straining to see what had her.

A second strange creature looked down at her from the shadowy ceiling. Its spiked tentacles dug into the flesh around her neck, grasping her tightly. She kicked her feet, trying to swing herself out of its grip, but it held on, unnaturally tight. It smiled down at her with a mouth full of spiked, needle-like teeth.

She growled as bursts of colour exploded in her peripheral vision. Slowly, things began to fade, grow dark. Her lungs ached. Her head pounded.

Bree punched feebly at the rubbery arm and the creature let out a slick, raspy laugh. Frantic, she punched at it again. She couldn't die like this. Not _here_. Not _now_.

She spotted Tempest on the floor a few inches away from her foot. She stretched for it, reaching with her leg, knowing it was useless. Even if she could touch it, she couldn't wield a blade in her booted foot.

Still she stretched. She yearned for the blade with all her being.

_To me, Tempest!_ She prayed. _Please._

Her arms went numb and fell lifeless at her sides. Her eyes rolled back up into her head. Distantly, she heard Nes casting spells, desperately trying to save his brother. Santon struggled for air beside her.

This was it. The bottom of the barrel. The last dregs. No one would save her this time.

Silence reigned.

Last call.

She was barely conscious. Barely alive. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't see. And yet, her sword arm strained once more for Tempest. She wouldn't give up.

And then, miraculously, she felt its cool presence wash over her.

No, it couldn't be. She must have gone numb.

Her arm, clutching Tempest in her hand swung upwards. It met resistance. Something screeched. And then she was falling. She hit the ground with a clatter gasping for breath. Tempest was clutched in her hand. The choker lie dead before her.

She staggered to her feet and stumbled across the room. She slashed at the creature clinging to Santon, cutting it's arm clean off. Santon fell to the ground, wheezing and clutching at his throat, while the rubbery creature screamed. It reached for Bree with its second arm, but Tempest slashed at it, severing it as well and then slicing its belly clean open.

A great roar sounded behind her.

"Are you alright, my brother?" Nes asked.

Fudin responded with greedy gulps of air.

They were all right. They were safe.

Bree fell to the ground and lay down, panting deeply.

"Thanks." Santon rasped from beside her.

She didn't respond.

Eventually Nes stood above her, holding out Tempest to her. Bree reached for it and frowned. She held Tempest in her hand, didn't she? And yet, sure enough, Nes held it out to her.

She looked down at her sword arm to find a replica of Tempest clutched in her hand, made of the same patchy, green mould that usually encased her arm. This time her arm was bare of the mould and only her hand was sheathed in it, like a glove.

As the real Tempest neared her the mould sword slowly drifted away, creeping through the air towards it. It danced there, a strange bridge between Tempest and her arm, until the last of the mould left her arm, and disappeared into the blade's glistening steel.

"By the light of the Starstone..." Bree exclaimed in awe, finally reaching out to take the blade from Nes.

"Don't drop your blade next time," he said. "It may not be so helpful. Magic is fickle like that."

Bree didn't even bother to frown at him. She was entranced. In awe.

Couldn't he see?

Tempest wasn't magic.

Tempest was a gift from the gods.


	30. Chapter 29: The House of Life

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Twenty-nine

The House of Life

All around her was movement.

Nes extolled the many wonders of the ancient Nethysian wizards. He had discovered a few dried up potions upon the stone shelves and was mixing them with water. "Even after all this time, they still contain their potency!"

Fudin was creeping around the edges of the room, keeping an eye out for danger.

Santon was digging through the filthy nest, pulling out coins and bits of jewelry.

A broken archway repeatedly rebuilt itself, and then fell back into decay. A silt filled goblet danced about the room atop a faded clay tray, offering itself to each of them in turn.

Bree ignored it all. She simply sat there, on the floor, with Tempest in her lap. She couldn't believe her luck. She had repeatedly had her prayers answered. She could funnel divine power from Cayden Cailean into healing magic. And now she had been granted Tempest. A holy weapon. But, why all this, for an orphan girl? Had her luck finally turned? Was she meant for great things? Surely there were others more worthy! More in need. Others stronger and more devoted.

Bree sighed. She couldn't begin to fathom the whims and goals of her beloved god. She didn't know why he had chosen to bless her. She couldn't imagine what made her special or what had caused him to guide her life in such an intimate way.

Eventually, she smiled. The reason didn't matter. She was a favoured soul, truly blessed by her god.

"It's time to go, Bree." Santon said.

"Yes," she said, "it is." She stood, drew Tempest and walked confidently into the next room.

It reeked of dust and looked like a disaster had struck it. Slate-topped tables lay broken and overturned, cedar-wood chairs lay splintered and broken, and scroll shelves lay toppled and smashed. Shreds of papyrus littered the floor, almost a hand-height deep in places. It was some kind of library or scriptorium, laid to waste.

"This was the Per Ankh," Nes said sadly. "The temple's House of Life. Holy scripts were copied, written and stored here."

Bree frowned. Repour that. It was a holy library, laid to waste.

Nes crouched down and picked up a piece of shredded paper. "The lore held within her was invaluable."

Santon shrugged. "Your mourning won't make a difference."

Nes nodded.

Bree walked through the room cautiously. A massive basalt plaque dominated the far wall. It was covered in images of the god-king Nethys on the deck of a river barge. Inscriptions in a language she didn't recognize traced the outline of the plaque. Bree saw no other exit from the room. "Is this it?" she asked.

Fudin cocked his head to the side and walked to the plaque with his arm outreached. He traced its edges carefully. "No. This is a gateway, though I know not how to breach it."

Bree walked up to it, and felt along the edges as Fudin had. She didn't see or feel anything out of place. She sighed. Did he see more than others, or did she see less than others?

Nes stepped forward and began forming arcane symbols with his hands. "Halavim hanavim habiqavim. Kaleem iban halkwan!" he shouted. His eyes took on a now familiar glow. He eyed the plaque for a minute, concentrating upon it.

Eventually he blinked and smiled.

"Prashtay vax sayid!" he cried, moving his hands in strange motions. A small ball of roaring flame formed in his hands. He raised his arm and threw it at the plaque. It struck the stone and dissipated in a flash, causing no harm.

One after another all the eyes upon the plaque lit up in a fiery light. When they were brilliantly bright the plaque slowly began to creep up into the ceiling letting a few stray wisps of a strange, swirling blue mist escape from below. The temple's ancient magics moved the stone slab achingly slowly, but after a few minutes there was enough room to duck through.

Bree smiled, excited to be moving again. She did not know what purpose her god was readying her for. Perhaps she would never know. It could come and go, passing her by with subtlety or insignificance. It could lay a decade down the road, or a year. Or it could lay just on the other side of the portal. Was it happening even now?

Whatever it was and whenever it came, Bree would be ready. She would be worthy. He would not find her lacking. She would make Cayden Cailean proud.


	31. Chapter 30: The Breath of Nethys

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Thirty

The Breath of Nethys

Fudin crept down a curving hallway cautiously, with the others a few paces behind. It was lined with life-size statues of ancient mages and seers. As he passed by them their mouths spouted a pearlescent vapour. Words flitted about the passage in both ancient Osirian, and Draconic, issuing forth from the statues.

'Who are you?' they asked. 'What is your task?'

'What is your power?'

Fudin ignored the voices and continued down the hallway which had slowly begun to tilt to the side. He reached out to steady himself against the statues.

"What is it, my brother?" Nes asked him. He seemed to tilt with the room.

Only Fudin was out of touch with it.

And then, it wasn't tilting anymore, it was spinning. The faces of his brother and his friends swirled around him in a vortex, blurring with those of the statues.

His head pounded. His nose burned.

The statues came to life. Their eyes glowed with a brilliant white light. They opened their stone jaws and their white vapours poured over him. Bathing them in their power.

Fudin felt it overwhelming him. He was drifting. Lost.

A familiar voice cut through his mind. Tezzen. "Unlock," the dragon said.

The rest of his words tumbled through Fudin's mind, incomprehensible over the screaming statues. Fudin felt himself being overwhelmed by the dragon, but it did not feel as it usually did. Something other than Tezzen had triggered this surge of power. The vapour.

No! He couldn't lose himself to the dragon's gifts now! He was needed. Nes needed him. He had to protect his brother.

Fudin raised a hand to his aching head, trying to keep himself despite the storm of power that funneled its way into him.

He tried, and failed.

Fudin's entire body shook as the powers of Tezzen coursed through him, electrifying every vessel and muscle within him. His body spasmed. His eyes flared once, in a blinding, blue flash of light, and then went completely empty. Black, bottomless pits.

Fudin fell to the ground, unconscious.

Around him the statues spoke.

'What is your power?' they asked. 'What is your task?'

I am needed.

'Yes,' the statues replied, 'Yes, you are.'

'You are too late.'


	32. Chapter 31: House of the All-Seeing Eye

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Thirty-one

The House of the All-Seeing Eye

Bree followed closely behind Nes and Fudin. Santon walked cautiously behind her. The hallway ahead was dark and spooky. Ancient, crumbling statues lined the twisting hallways. They spouted a white, shimmering vapour from their mouths and disembodied voices echoed around them. Some of the words sounded familiar to her, others did not. She had no idea what they meant.

Fudin swayed upon his feet.

"What is it, my brother?" Nes asked.

Fudin didn't answer. Instead he clutched at his head as if in pain. His body went rigid and he sort of jumped off of the ground, almost levitating for a moment. His limbs jerked back and forth and his eyes shot out a great flare of light, dazzling her. When she could see again, Fudin was in a heap upon the floor. His eyes were completely black, pupil-less orbs.

Bree ran to his side and felt for a pulse. It was strong and steady.

"What's wrong with him?"

Nes bent down beside his brother and drew his eyelids down over his eyes. "Nothing."

"Nothing?! Sweet barleybrew, Nes, now's not the time to lie!"

"Fudin receives his powers from an ancient blue dragon named Tezzen. It is a great gift, but his body is not strong enough to contain all of its power. At times he is overwhelmed by it."

Bree frowned and looked down at Fudin's still body. Fresh blue scales crept further up his legs. His fingernails elongated slightly and darkened. Bree shuddered. Blue dragons were viciously evil beings. Was this what Fudin was becoming? A monster?

"Usually he is overwhelmed at night or early morning. Sometimes it is brought on by especially powerful magic or fierce storms." He waved a finger through the swirling mists. "I imagine it was this that caused him to overload so suddenly. The Breath of Nethys."

Bree eyed Nes and his brother with disgust. To think that they had bargained with blue dragons for power! It wasn't Santon who was the drunken preacher in this group, but them. They were more than a few pints short of a keg. Much more. They barely had any pints left! The Sahadine brothers were mad!

She eyed them suspiciously. And then something happened. Something strange. Her consciousness sort of... expanded. Became fuller, though she had never known that it was lacking. Everything's edges were blurred, but their colours were sharper and faces were brighter. Each object seemed to glow with its own inner light. She eyed the brothers before her, but there was nothing ominous within their auras. Nor Santon's. Curious, Bree stood up and wandered down the hallway.

Santon followed closely behind her, while Nes padded along behind him silently.

"Fudin will be fine," he muttered, but Bree wasn't listening. She was too busy watching.

The hallway opened up into a vast cavern, its outline obscured by drifting, dancing vapours. Floating upon a sea of clouds in the center of the chamber was a splendid barge. It's wooden planks were freshly polished and shone brilliantly.

"The Barque of Nethys!" Nes exclaimed in awe. "Those of his faith believe that it is upon this very ship that Nethys travels across the multiverse."

Santon nodded sluggishly. "And there," he said, "Haleen!" Santon and Nes ran through the mists, towards the barge. Bree frowned. Haleen? Who was Haleen? She squinted, but still couldn't see anyone upon the ship.

The mists swirled about her. She blinked. She felt dizzy.

She closed her eyes and laid her hand upon her copper tankard. "In Cayden's name," she prayed, willing the sickness to pass. "May your favour find me." Slowly, she opened her eyes.

Everything had changed.

The cavern was foul with the scent of decay. The mists crawled unnaturally along the cavern's irregular floor, though it looked nothing like a sea of clouds. Unnerving outlines rose up amongst the miasma before fading back down into nothingness as quickly as they appeared.

The barge was ancient and hung unsupported in the air. It was little more than a skeleton of scorched spars and torn planks. Portions of the vessel flickered and flared, almost as unstable as the vapours around it.

Nes stood at the side of the barge, moving his arms as if he were swimming. He reached up at it, and began to climb up its side awkwardly, as if it were a ladder and he kept missing the steps.

Santon stood upon the deck of the barge hugging the swirling mists tightly. Tears dripped down his cheeks. Walking up behind him was a dark-skinned man dressed in tattered, filthy silks. A strange aura surrounded the man. It was not so much an enhancement of his colours, but a darkening of them. Black wisps flickered about him. Bree caught a foul smell upon him that she couldn't quite put into words. She knew, without a doubt, that this man was evil.

She didn't know how she knew this, nor did it matter. What mattered was her friends.

Bree charged forward and drew Tempest. "Behind you, Santon!"

He made no response.

Bree's vision returned to normal. Everything sharpened, colours faded and the auras disappeared. As she neared the barge, Nes finally scurried over its ledge and up, onto the deck.

"Bitter brew!" Bree cursed, sheathing her blade and leaping up to cling onto the barge's deck.

"Nethys!" Nes cried joyously. "What an honour it is to travel through time and space at your side!"

"Haleen?" Santon asked. "Oh, Haleen! I thought I would never see you again!"

"Remove yourselves from my presence," another voice said angrily. "I seek an end to the hunger!"

Bree pulled herself up onto the deck.

Nes stood before the angry looking man in tattered robes with his head bowed. "Where is our first destination?" he asked him.

"I am the Falcon Emir!" the angry man bellowed. "This barge is mine! It's magic is mine! It's answers will be mine! They will save me!"

"Hey!" Bree shouted at them, drawing Tempest. The temperature around her dropped a few degrees and a cool mould crawled up, over her arm, ending at her elbow. "What magic have you cast upon my friends?"

The man laughed. "I have cast no magic, woman! The mists themselves torment your comrades. They hold the answers. All the answers."

"Get away from them."

"Get off my ship!" He drew a long katar from behind him. It was a sort of dagger, two-and-a-half handspans in length, whose golden handle allowed one to use it as if they were punching. An embossed image of a ferocious looking leopard adorned the weapons hilt, while strange shadowy patterns writhed across its damascened blade. He raised it up to Nes' throat.

Bree's eyes widened. Nes and Santon were utterly oblivious to the danger, lost in their delusions. Bree opened her eyes as wide as she could, trying to bring back the auras. Sweat beaded down her forehead and she circled the man.

"Easy," she said. "Easy." Slowly, the auras drifted back into being. Everything blurred and brightened. Not only was this man evil, but the blade was as well. Bree frowned. She let the auras drop and took a deep breath. "In Cayden's name."

She lunged at the man. Her blade was meant for slicing and slashing, not thrusting, but it got the point across. The man stepped back, away from her blade, and let Nes go.

His eyes widened, and he cursed in a language Bree didn't understand. He smiled then, his lips a thin, cruel line and thrust forward with his katar, straight for Nes' back. Bree dove forward, pushing Nes to the ground. He squealed in pain and surprise, but Bree ignored him.

She spun as she landed, in time to see the man follow up with a downward slice. She rolled forward and slashed out with Tempest, slicing him in the arm and knocking his blow off course. Tempest's blade left behind a thin line of ice and frost in the wound. It seeped freezing cold air from it like the room seeped vapours.

Bree smiled and the man screamed. He backed up, clutched his hands to his head and then threw his head back in a great roar. Golden fur burst forth from his skin. His fingernails elongated into this black claws. A tail exploded from his back and he grew both taller and more muscular before her eyes. Saliva dripped from his mouth and he stood upright, as a man, though with the fur and features of a giant leopard.

"Froth and foam!" What was he?

He roared, a deep bellow that shook the very planks she stood upon.

Bree held Tempest steadily, and raised her buckler before her.

The leopard-man pounced forward, crossing the barge in one leap. Something pushed her to the ground from behind.

"Spitfire!"

Fire roared above her, engulfing the beast. She rolled to the side, out of the way of the flames. Nes stood behind her with a smile upon his face. His eyes widened in surprise.

The creature plowed right through the flames and landed upon Nes, taking him to the ground. Its claws cut through his robes and the katar plunged deeply into his shoulder. Claw marks appeared upon the beast's chest exactly where he had struck Nes with the evil blade.

Nes screamed and the creature sunk his teeth into his arm, biting deeply.

Bree drove Tempest into the creature's back leg. It roared and let go of Nes' arm though its claws still clenched him tight.

Nes formed his hands into strange shapes sluggishly.

Bree swung frantically at the creature, slicing its flesh open with each icy slash. Crystalized blood drifted from her blade like snowflakes as it moved.

"Lashto vax bethnin!" Nes spat, through bloody, clenched teeth.

The beast clenched its claws, digging deeper into Nes' flesh.

"No!" He would surely set himself aflame with the beast. "Broken tankard!" Bree cried as she slashed the beast again, desperately trying to defeat it before Nes could immolate himself.

"Cyclosis!"

A pillar of flame exploded from him, surging up to the caverns roof. The beast howled in rage and pain, as it's flesh burnt away from its frame. Nes screamed.

The fire roared, intensely hot, just a few inches from her. She backed away.

As suddenly as they had started, the flames stopped. The crisp, blackened form of a man lay atop Nes' smoking robes. Bree pushed the corpse off of Nes.

Nes bled considerably from his shoulders, arms and legs. Deep claw marks and gouges punctured through his skin and flesh, and into muscle. His silken robes were melted around him. His flesh was unburnt.

Bree drew the last of her healing potions from her belt pouch and poured it down his throat. Some of the wounds upon his arm closed, but not all. The bite marks on his shoulder were completely unaffected.

"Froth and foam!" She placed her hands upon his chest and forehead.

Nes smiled up at her. Blood seeped from his lips and mouth, down his chin. Red splotches formed under his skin. He was bleeding internally. Bree tried to ignore the blood pooling around him and concentrated.

"In Cayden's name," she prayed. "Please, my Lord! Please.." her voice faltered. "May your luck find me. May your power find me. Don't let him die!"

Energy flooded her and exploded forth from her hands in a torrent. Nes cried out. Bree forced herself to keep steady, to hang on, as the surge of power and feeling assaulted her and passed right back out of her, into Nes. His wounds frothed and bubbled like a hearty head on a fine mug of ale. His skin knitted itself together, his blood returned to where it belonged and his torn muscles reformed.

Bree smiled and collapsed.

Cayden's will be done.


	33. Chapter 32: Wounds

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Thirty-two

Wounds

Bree awoke beside Fudin on the hard packed earth. The sun beat down upon them. It was hot and Bree was thirsty. She sat up and looked around.

Nes crouched over his brother with his hand pressed upon his brow. Santon sat away from them, leaning against the outer stone walls of the shrine, with his head lowered into his hands. He looked heartbroken.

"She's gone," he muttered to himself. "She's gone."

"You're alright?" Bree asked Nes.

He paused, thinking. Clearly he was not all right.

"My wounds have healed," he said. He let go of his brother and looked up into her eyes. "You saved my life, Bree."

Bree nodded. "You're my friend."

He paused, unsure of how to react.

"What's wrong with Fudin?" Bree asked.

"Nothing."

"Are you afraid for him?"

Nes shook his head. "Yes, and no. Fudin will be fine. But I... am not well."

He looked perfectly healthy. Bree frowned. "I didn't heal you enough?"

Nes shook his head again. "No, I... What do you know of lycanthropy?"

"Lycanthrophy?"

"Lycanthropes?" Nes asked. "Were-creatures?"

"You mean werewolves?" Bree asked. "We have _them_ back home."

"Sort of. Lycanthropy is a disease which is transferrable through bites. It causes its victim to become part animal each full moon, or when they are under stress. There are many kinds or lycanthropes. Werewolves are one of them."

Bree nodded.

"The man on the barge was a lycanthrope," Nes continued. "A wereleopard. I believe his... illness has infected me."

Bree paused, stunned. "But..." she stammered. "I healed you."

"Not all wounds can be healed, Bree. Some must be overcome."

Bree shook her head. "You can't overcome being a werewolf! It will turn you into an evil beast! You'll murder your family and friends!"

Nes shook his head. "Not necessarily. Lycanthropes become more animalistic, it's true, but their demeanor is determined by the animal itself. Werewolves are evil. As are wererats, but werebears are good."

"And what are wereleopards?"

"Evil." Nes said matter of factly.

Bree eyes widened in shock. How could he be so calm? Another two or three days and he'd be trying to devour her liver!

"However," he continued. "If one's will is strong enough, one can keep oneself, despite the transformation."

"You mean you won't try to eat us?"

"My will is strong. I will fight the change when it comes, and I will win."

"And if you can't?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I will."

"No." Bree said stubbornly. "There has to be another way."

"There is." Nes responded. "There is a flower called wolfsbane. It has a chance of curing lycanthropy if it is administered before the first transformation. But, it is incredibly poisonous."

"We could try it."

Nes shook his head and chuckled. He gestured at his frail frame. "You think I would survive?" He shook his head. "No, Bree. My _body_ is my weakness. My _mind_ is my strength. I will fight the transformation and I will win."

Bree paused, saddened. She had a bad feeling about this. But Nes seemed certain. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps he could keep himself.

Nes looked down at Fudin and stroked his head. "Wake soon, my brother," he whispered.

Bree frowned. Nes never finished, but she knew what he left unsaid.

'Just in case.'

Nes wanted to say goodbye.


	34. Chapter 33: Change

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Thirty-three

Change

Bree, Santon and Fudin sat in a circle around Nes.

Two days had passed. The moon would be full tonight. The time had come. Nes would _change_.

Nes sat calmly, bound by his hands and feet at Santon's suggestion. He prayed fervently to Sarenrae, Goddess of redemption and the sun. He believed he could hold the transformation at bay. Santon, as evidenced by the ropes, did not.

Fudin had argued with his brother since he awoke, to allow him to look for wolfsbane. Nes refused his request and Fudin accepted his choice, sitting by his side these past two days, while his brother prayed.

Bree was certain Nes would succeed. She had been worried at first, of course, but she had faith. Not so much in Nes, as in Cayden Cailean. Why would her Lord allow her to save Nes' life only to have him taken away by savagery?

No. He wouldn't. Nes would pull through. He had to.

Slowly, the sun dipped below the horizon. Sarenrae's final rays cast them in reds and oranges. The sky darkened.

Santon stood up and drew his broadsword. Bree stood beside him, her sword sheathed.

Fudin sat beside Nes. "I love you, my brother," he said.

Nes smiled serenely. "There is no need to say your farewells, Fudin."

Fudin shook his head. "I should have been by your side. I should have protected you."

"All is as it should have been, my brother."

Fudin frowned and wrapped Nes in an embrace.

"We will endure," Nes assured him.

Fudin nodded and stood, waiting for the moon to rise.

The sky darkened, turning to black. Finally, the moon's silver gaze peeked over the horizon.

"We will endure," Nes said again with certainty.

Santon held his broadsword in sweating hands. Bree felt a flutter in her stomach, but ignored it. Nes would succeed.

Nes' brow creased in pain. He frowned and bit his lip shut. Sweat beaded up on his forehead, dripping down his cheeks in thin droplets. His body shuddered, twitching in the darkness. Golden fur burst forth from his skin, with round, black spots. A tail sprung forth beneath him and his manicured fingernails became long, black claws. He screamed. His teeth sharpened into fangs and his cries quickly became roars. He grew over four paces taller, and his body became thick and muscular.

Nes was no longer meek. He was no longer dependent upon his brother for protection. He was no longer human. Nes roared and Santon raised his sword high.

"No!" Bree yelled. "He'll control it!"

Santon did not lower his blade.

Nes' eyes changed colour, becoming golden, and then slitted, like a cats. He stood before them, still.

"Brother?"

Nes roared, flexed his muscles and burst forth from the ropes containing him. He swung at Fudin with large, clawed paws.

Fudin stepped back and batted his brother's paw out of the way.

"No," Bree muttered. "It can't be."

Santon roared and drove his broadsword into Nes' back.

Nes roared, a bestial cry of pain, and twisted away from the blow.

"No!" Bree shouted at Santon as she drew Tempest. "Subdue him!"

Fudin nodded. He ducked underneath another of Nes' clawed paws. "It is me, my brother!"

Bree swung at Nes with her blade, slicing him in the leg to slow him down. Fudin punched him solidly in the chest.

"You are stronger than this!" Fudin shouted. "Remember!"

Nes swatted Fudin away, sending him to the hard earth with ease. Fudin struggled to his feet, shaking his head as if to clear his vision.

Bree slashed at Nes in the leg again, but he did not slow. Instead he roared and pounced upon Fudin with his jaws open wide.

Santon yelled and plunged his broadsword straight through Nes' spine. Nes howled in pain as blood poured from the wound and he fell atop Fudin. Santon withdrew his sword and raised it high over his head.

"No." Bree mouthed.

Santon swung his sword down, slicing Nes' head from his shoulders. It fell atop Fudin with a wet thump.

"No!" Bree screamed. She ran to Nes' side. His body twitched and shuddered. It shed its fur and shrunk until it was no longer a monster, but Nes himself.

Santon backed away and dropped his blade. "I'm sorry."

Bree stood overtop of Nes' body with a healing potion in her hand. She knew it was useless. What could she heal without a head? Still, she splashed the potion atop him. Nothing happened. Tears streamed down her face.

How could He? How could He let her save him, only to have him die like _this_? At the hands of friends.

Fudin reached up and hugged his brother's bleeding body. He was still for a moment, and then shook with great heaving sobs. His tears mingled with his brother's blood in the dirt.

"I'm sorry," Santon said again. "I'm sorry."


	35. Chapter 34: Goodbyes

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Thirty-four

Goodbyes

Fudin stood silently. A single tear traced its way down his cheek from his red-rimmed eyes. He had few left.

It was colder without Nes. He was colder. Hollow.

Empty.

Fudin placed the last rock upon his brother's cairn. Behind him stood Bree and Santon. He had not let them help put his brother to rest. It was _his_ duty. His, and his alone.

Bree muttered a prayer to her drunken, reckless god. Santon patted Fudin on the back.

"I'm sorry." he said again, as if that would make it better.

It didn't.

Fudin ignored them.

Eventually, they left him there, alone with the memory of his brother.

Fudin frowned. It had been all his fault.

When Fudin had left home with his brother to prove themselves, Fudin had come for only one reason. Just one. His brother.

Fudin didn't care if he earned his father's pride. He didn't care if he was accepted as a man. He didn't even care if he achieved his father's position as advisor. Those were Nes' hopes. Nes' dreams. Not his.

Fudin had come only to keep his brother safe. And he had failed. He had become overwhelmed by his powers right when Nes needed him most. If he had only held on. If only he had been stronger.

He could have held the powers at bay. He should have. But he didn't.

And so, instead of Fudin protecting Nes from the lycanthrope and succumbing to its bite, his brother did. His frail, weak brother.

Fudin had no doubt that he could have survived the wolfsbane, just as Nes had been certain that he could not.

It was all his fault. It should have been him. Fudin frowned. His body shook, but no tears fell. He had none left. He was empty.

Fudin picked up the burnt card that Nes had found in his spellbook a few weeks past. The men painted on the card glared out at him from beneath their crow's masks. They eyed him accusingly. Fudin held the singed card to his heart. It was all he had kept of his brother. Everything else he had buried with him.

A shrill caw sounded from above. Fudin looked up to see a trio of crows circling the skies above. Fudin nodded in understanding.

The crows had chosen him, but had taken his brother instead.

He turned then, from his brother's grave, and walked away.

He would not come back.


	36. Chapter 35: Pain

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Thirty-five

Pain

Bree and Santon waited in the dark, outside the Shrine of Nethys. They sat silently, with their backs pressed up the stone wall. Hours passed. Slowly, the sun creeped over the horizon.

"He's not coming back." Bree said.

Santon nodded.

"We should go back and tell the others," she continued.

Santon shook his head. "Let's press on. There was a fire at the fort past Kelmarane. We should travel there first before looping back around to the monastery."

Bree paused. Santon's fists were clenched. He didn't care about telling the others. He only cared about getting back at the gnolls.

They had no reason to believe that the wereleopard was associated with them, of course. He had been staying alone at the shrine and would have been a danger to the gnolls. Still, Santon was angry at them. Angry they were there. Angry that he was here. Angry at their incessant howling.

He was angry at himself for being afraid. For being guilty.

He was angry at Fudin for leaving. For not forgiving him.

He was angry with Nes for dying. For succumbing. For not killing himself with the poisoned flower.

Santon wanted action. He wanted violence. He wanted blood on his sword that deserved to be there.

Bree nodded. "Okay. We'll go to the old fort."

She stood and stretched. It had been a long night. Neither of them slept. Neither of them had wanted to.

They set out south, fording the river where they had a few days ago. Where Fudin had shown them it was safest. They skirted the river, heading north, aiming to go up and around Kelmarane, and then west, through the foothills, to the old fort.

They had barely come up even with Kelmarane when a scream cut across the plains. Bree and Santon froze. Listening. It was coming from Kelmarane. Worse, it was human.

Bree and Santon threw themselves to the ground, hoping that they had not been seen. They crawled closer to town. It took them a few minutes of travel before they managed to find the source of the cries.

Atop a rise, right in front the large building the gnolls were using for a base, knelt a man. A gnoll stood to each side of him, holding him in place. In front of him was a third gnoll who held a pair of red hot tongs in his furry hands. The gnoll dug the tongs into the man's body, and pulled out his intestines coil by coil. The man screamed in agonized wails. Behind him were four more gnolls who held three other captives between them, forcing them to watch.

Bree stood and drew her sword. Santon grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back down.

"You'll get yourself killed!" he said sternly.

Bree shrugged off his grip and stood up again. "I don't care! They're killing that man, Santon!"

Santon grit his teeth. "I know."

"Killing him!"

"I know!"

"And you're not going to help me save him? You're going to sit here, watching? Doing nothing?" She spat at the ground.

"That's right in front of their base! They have an army!"

She shook her head. "You're a sober coward!"

"You'll _die_, Bree. I'm not going to let you die, too."

"I'm not afraid of dying trying to do what's right."

"You should be."

"No! I'm afraid of being too scared to try."

Santon paused, then slowly nodded his head. "We'll have to loop around, to the east. Try to skirt the town's defenses."

Bree nodded. "Fine, let's just go before - "

It had grown silent. The screams had stopped. Bree squinted into the distance. The man lay dead in the square. The gnolls who had tortured him devoured his corpse. The three other prisoners were led away, back into the large building.

"Froth and foam!" She was too late.

"Wait."

Bree chuckled. Wait? For what?

Santon grabbed her arm and turned her to the town. "There!" He pointed at the road leading from the upper half of town to the lower half. "They're not taking them back to the battle market. They're taking them to the old pesh fields."

The pesh fields?

Santon took off at a run. "Come on. We might be able to make it."

Bree dashed after him.

"We might even live," he called back to her.

Bree smiled grimly. "We just might."

Cayden's will be done.


	37. Chapter 36: The Dust Digger

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Thirty-six

The Dust Digger

Santon and Bree made it halfway there before the ground began to rumble. Bree lost her footing and fell to the ground. Santon stumbled.

Across the field the earth moved. It didn't open, or split, but sort of raised. As if something were burrowing through the earth, towards the captives.

The gnoll, who had been beating the ground with a big stick, backed up towards the prisoners and pushed one of them forward, towards the shifting earth. The man struggled against the gnoll. As the shifting earth closed with them the gnoll backed up. The prisoner tripped him and tried to run.

A huge starfish-like monster surged up from the ground. It twisted its limbs around it in a circle knocking the gnoll into it's gaping, toothy maw in the center of its body. The prisoner screamed, then ran towards the others. The monster surged forward, propelling itself with its limbs and clamped onto the prisoner, swallowing all but one of his legs.

The second gnoll backed up quietly while the monster dove back beneath the earth. He neared the prisoners and then fell to the ground at they kicked his feet out from under him. The gnoll growled and yanked onto one of the prisoner's chains while the other slipped out of his grip. He made a dash for it, across the fields, towards the monastery, leaving his comrade behind.

The gnoll struck the final prisoner in the face and dragged him towards the pesh fields. He struggled against his chains, but was held tight. The gnoll threw him onto the earth and kicked him once in the face. A vulture swooped down, landed beside them and began picking at the severed leg in the dirt.

The gnoll smiled, and pushed the bird away. He reached for the leg and made to throw it, presumably to gain the attention of the monster. The vulture flew at him, flapping its wings and biting at him angrily. The gnoll jumped back startled. The prisoner reached for his comrade's severed leg grabbed it tightly in his hands and beat the gnoll in the face with it, repeatedly. The gnoll yipped in pain. The vulture bit at him and the prisoner never relented.

Behind him, the monster crept closer.

"Run!" Bree yelled.

The vulture flew up into the air with a squawk. The prisoner dove out of the way just as the monster surged up out of the earth, leaving the gnoll to be eaten. The prisoner sat in the dirt, steps away from the monster, unlocked the chains binding him and ran as fast as he could, back into Kelmarane.

Across the field, the other prisoner left the old pesh cacti behind for the rocks and stone beyond. He would find the monastery. He was safe.

A howl sounded from upper Kelmarane causing a pack of gnolls to gather outside of the battle market. They talked amongst themselves and then set off for the lower half of town. They were looking for the prisoner.

Bree grabbed Santon by the hand and took off at a run for the town. "Come on."

He followed her without question. She and Santon would attack the town. Perhaps they would find the prisoner and save him. Perhaps they would be a distraction and the prisoner would escape. Perhaps they would take the town themselves. And perhaps they would die before they even broke through the perimeter.

It didn't matter. What mattered was that they tried.


	38. Chapter 37: Intruders

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Thirty-seven

Intruders

Xulthos smiled. Someone had entered his territory. His little town of Kelmarane.

For over a week he had been restless. He could sense that the key to his prison was close, but couldn't locate it. He couldn't even pinpoint it's direction. But always, _always_ he could sense it. Taste it. His freedom was so close and yet he had been unable to do anything about it. Whoever had the key had stayed tantalizingly out of his range.

His puppet had done its job admirably. It had gathered others to his service, rebuilt portions of the ruined town above and spread word of its exploits. Slowly, others trickled into Kelmarane. Merchants and Slavers. Outcasts and the insane. Thugs and criminals.

As the town above grew, Xulthos' puppet's power grew. Its influence grew. But, most importantly, word of its deeds spread. Through the darkest corners of Katapesh its legend had crept. Finally, it had reached its intended ears: Xulthos' captors.

The true owners of Kelmarane had heard of the interlopers upon their land. And, as Xulthos had hoped, their insatiable greed had drawn them across the country, back home. Right into Xulthos' clutches.

From the earthen crypts below Kelmarane, Xulthos sent his senses out into the world above. These new intruders were not here for trade. They did not hold the key to his prison.

There were two of them. Both human. They stunk of good intentions and righteous anger. They sought to destroy his minions. To break his puppet's hold on the pitiful town above. They served the Keeper of the Key. He was certain of it.

He reached out his mind, following the mental chains that connected him to his puppet. He seared the intruder's image into its brain.

_Find them_. He ordered. _Capture them. Question them personally. Wring their allies' location from their loose, fleshy lips._

Amid dreams of revenge and freedom, Xulthos laughed. His time was coming. Soon. _So_ soon. He would be ready.


	39. Chapter 38: Kezurkian

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Thirty-eight

Kezurkian

It had started well. Bree and Santon had made it all the way to the outskirts of lower Kelmarane before they were spotted. Even then, they only came up against four gnolls. Whether the gnolls lacked conviction, attention or skill Bree couldn't tell, but it didn't matter. She and Santon were filled with purpose. With rage. The gnolls were easily dispatched. The first ones anyway. By the third quartet even Bree had to admit she was tiring. She wasn't used to such drawn out fights. When the twelfth gnoll fell dead she felt a rush of adrenaline. They could do this.

And then _it_ appeared.

She wasn't sure what it was, exactly. Only that it was angry and it was tall.

It looked like the bastard offspring of a human and a goat. It's face was bestial and topped with two backward-curving horns. Its body was partly covered in mangy white hair while its skin was pale pink. A series of strange symbols were carved into its chest. It screamed when it saw them, howling an alarm to the entire town.

"Foul brew!" They would soon be outnumbered.

The creature raised its halberd high, ducked its head and charged at her. Bree dove to the side. She meant to come up in a roll but crashed into the rocky, uneven ground instead. Santon swung at the creature with his blood-encrusted broadsword landing a glancing blow.

The creature roared again showing nauseating yellowed teeth. Spittle flew from its mouth. Its breath reeked of decayed meat and human waste. Its beady eyes burned with an amber rage.

Santon roared in return and lunged at the creature but it stepped back, nimbly turning his blade to the side with its own. Bree swung at it with Tempest but found she left little more than a scratch upon its skin. Froth and foam, its hide was thick! She swung again but the creature parried her blow and twisted his halberd almost yanking Tempest right from her hand. She kept her grip but tripped in the process.

The creature raised his halberd above him and stabbed down at Bree with it. Santon thrust his sword at the halberd just barely knocking it off course. It pierced the ground right beside Bree's leg. She breathed a sigh of relief and threw herself to the side, putting some distance between her and the beast. Santon and the creature traded blow after blow in quick succession. Metal clashed against metal. Sweat beaded up on Santon's brow. He was tiring.

Desperately, Bree lunged forward, nicking the beast in the leg. It roared and struck Bree in the side of the head with the butt of its halberd before parrying Santon's next swing. It hadn't missed a beat!

Bree went tumbling to the ground and knocked her head against the stoney ground. She groaned and spat a glob of blood onto the dirt. With shaking legs she staggered to her feet.

The beast tore Santon's broadsword from his hands and thrust forward with his halberd. Santon twisted to the side, dodging the blow.

He smiled.

So did the creature. It lowered its head and thrust forward with his horns. Santon's eyes widened in surprise. Still, his instinct was strong. He threw himself to the ground, underneath the charging creature. The horns grazed his shoulders. He gritted his teeth.

The creature crashed into him but Santon rolled with the impact and kicked his legs, sending the creature flying into a nearby wall. Santon struggled to his feet slowly. Bree walked forward, tripping on loose rocks and masonry. The creature turned, lowered its head and charged.

"No!" Bree yelled. Santon was too tired. He wouldn't dodge in time.

Bree hurled Tempest at the creature. It turned in the air, tumbling end over end. It struck the creature in the thigh, but not deeply. It didn't falter. Santon stumbled then fell.

An ear-piercing squawk sounded from above. Bree looked up. A black, molting vulture streaked down from the sky and dove at the creature. It clawed and scratched at the creature's hide with its talons, and tore at it with its large, sharp beak.

The creature batted at the large, unnaturally vicious bird with his large hands. The bird tore bits of flesh from the creature and tossed them aside before diving in again to feast.

"Enfebastious vesral!" an unfamiliar, gravelly voice said solemnly.

A shadowy, black ray plowed into the creature. It shrieked. Its muscles visibly shrunk and its back hunched as if under a heavy burden. It was as if the creature were becoming weaker, withering right before her eyes.

Bree looked about for the source of the spell.

A man - at least she thought it was a man - stood in the shadows of a nearby building. He was very tall and slender, nearly six paces in height, with a wiry build. His skin was a deep, reddish brown colour, like partially dried blood. He had long, wild hair that hung about him like a cowl. His features were both thin and strong. His long nose was slightly hooked and his thin, pursed lips were set in a grim line. Tall branching horns, almost like those of an elk or deer, sprouted from his head, but leaned backwards instead of forwards. A red pointed tail, like that of a devil, whipped about him. His fingernails were rather long and sharp-looking, though not enough to be used as any kind of weapon. He wore a hodgepodge of mismatched, dirty armour over top of torn clothing. It was obviously scavenged from others but made him look rugged rather than desperate. He was good-looking, but in a sort of fiendish, unnatural way. Like a gift or treat that you knew you weren't supposed to have. He was almost... sinful.

He looked at the creature with fierce bright, almost glowing, red eyes and smiled, revealing fanged teeth. "Come then, fiend." His voice was deep and vibrated with emotion. He was intense. Brooding. Dangerous.

Bree gasped. This was the prisoner they had come to save.

He was obviously born of some kind of unholy union. Perhaps the child of devils, or fiends? She knew it was common in other lands to bear devil-tainted children. In Cheliax, especially. What did they call them? Tieflings? Bree couldn't be sure.

The creature roared, flung the vulture off of him and charged at the man with his horns. The man waited patiently. Unmoving. He was unnaturally calm. Like something from a nightmare.

Bree, caught somewhere between revulsion, fear and awe, opened her mind to the auras around her. The creature reeked of evil. The man did not. But, how could that be?

The creature neared the man. There were mere paces between them. Finally, the man moved. He stepped to the side and ducked, then twisted and leaped into the air. The creature missed him by a hairsbreadth. The man swung down at the creature's head with a light, spiked mace. Blood splattered everywhere as the mace cracked through its skull. The man landed a few steps behind the creature. The creature plowed right into a wall. The man stepped forward again and brought his mace down upon the creature's skull, once more, and then again.

The creature roared. Then twitched and finally stopped. With a rippling, its body disappeared. It didn't turn invisible so much as be pulled into the spaces between space. Its death upon the material plane had caused its body to be dragged back to whatever foul hell he had come from.

The man stood up calmly and pressed some of his long hair behind his shoulder. The vulture squawked and swooped down, perching himself atop the man's horns.

Bree shuddered and looked harder at the man. He still radiated no evil.

Santon stumbled up to the man and nodded. "My thanks."

Bree walked up to them with apprehension. The man had such an ill look about him, but his aura was no more tainted than her own. She blinked, letting the auras fade away. "You're not evil." she stated. She raised her hand to her mouth in shock. She shouldn't have said that. "Oh, froth and foam!"

The man arched an eyebrow and tensed. Slowly, deliberately he locked eyes with her. "Indeed." he said tightly. Apparently he was used to being judged as a fiend.

Bree frowned. She hadn't meant to say that.

In the distance gnolls yipped and howled.

"Yeah, yeah." Santon said hurriedly as he snatched up his sword. "Save it for later."

The man nodded. "Perhaps we should retire to a more defensible location."

"As in _now_," Santon grumbled. "Before the dogs arrive."

The man blinked, finally breaking his gaze with Bree's and turned. "Fly, Husk."

The vulture took off for the skies, leaving his perch atop the man's head.

Bree hesitated for a moment, watching the devilish man they had come to save walk away with Santon.

He hadn't needed their help at all.


	40. Chapter 39: Kelestair

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Thirty-nine

Kelestair

"I'm sorry," Bree said through ragged breaths. "I didn't mean to... well. I didn't mean to be rude or imply that you were... Well, you know. Just because you're - "

The man simply nodded. "Devil spawn."

Bree frowned. They hadn't spoken since they fled Kelmarane. Now, here they stood, panting at the river's edge, near the Shrine of Nethys. Bree had been working up the nerve to apologize the whole trip and now that the time had come she was making a mess of it. If she hadn't already been flushed from the run, she would have reddened in embarrassment.

"Well. I didn't mean to say it out loud or anything. Oh, Froth and foam! That doesn't make it sound any better!" Bree scowled, shook her head and then held her hand out to the man. "Let me start again. I'm Bree. I'm from Andoran, but have been traveling with a caravan from Katapesh who were hired to retake Kelmarane from the gnolls. We saw you escape from across the field and came right away to help but - Oh, tipped tankard! I'm rambling."

Santon laughed merrily and clapped Bree on the back. "She's not usually so pathetic," he said. "I'm Santon Synger. Thanks for the help back there. You really saved my hide."

The corner of the man's lip curled up slightly into a smirk. "Your thanks are not necessary. I require no reward for doing a good deed."

Bree frowned. The man was a saint and she had thought him evil. She was so embarrassed.

"I am called Kelestair. I am a Pathfinder from Cheliax."

Bree's frown deepened. Chelaxians were devil woshippers. The man caught her frown and nodded in understanding.

"I realize the impression my country of birth leaves upon others. Cheliax is a nation in the thrall of devils," he paused and gestured to himself. "I myself am an example of where this can lead. Their taint suffused my mother's very womb and - Well, you see the results. I have worked tirelessly to shed the sins of my country and my parentage. It is a daunting task. My looks cause many to doubt my sincerity." He sighed in sadness.

"I'm sorry." Gods, she felt so guilty! "I didn't mean to - "

Kelestair shook his head. "No apologies needed, my lady. It is a burden I have grown accustomed to. It simply means I must work harder to find acceptance. My deeds must... overshadow my appearance."

Santon smiled. "They have already, my friend. You saved us, which matters to me far more than who your mother begot you with or where you come from."

Bree slapped Santon in the arm. "Cayden's codpiece, Santon! Don't be so crude."

Santon laughed and Kelestair's smirk widened slightly.

Bree blushed. "Oh, tipped tankard." she said. She was messing everything up.

"You say you are here to liberate Kelmarane?" Kelestair asked.

Bree nodded. "Yes."

"Then I fear I must impose myself upon you for a while yet. Not all of my comrades have escaped that hellhole."

"There are more of you? More captives?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"How many? Are they alright? How long have - "

"How did you come to be captive, Kel?" Santon asked, cutting off Bree's questions.

"As I mentioned, I am a Pathfinder. Part of a group called the Lions of Senara, to be more specific. We numbered six, in all. One of our number, a chronicler named Felliped, managed to evade capture. He tried to save us but was captured in turn. They executed his girlfriend first. Elsbeth, was her name. Felliped escaped shortly thereafter, although I believe he is trapped somewhere within the town. He seemed rather unhinged last I saw him. I am worried for him." Kelestair paused, lost in thought. He sighed. "They executed Marcus in the square shortly before I escaped. Rupren was eaten by the Dust Digger. It was his foot I used to bludgeon my gnoll captor senseless. The last of our number, the cleric, Oxvard, I imagine was eaten as well. He tried to flee through the beast's hunting grounds."

Bree shook her head. "The cleric lived. I saw him pass through the fields unharmed. Our fellows are staying at an old monastery in that direction. He's found them by now, no doubt. He will be safe."

"Oh? How lucky he is. What news."

Santon nodded. "Aye. This other friend of yours, though. Felliped, was it? We'll help you find him tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

Santon nodded. "Yes. We were going to go to the ruined fort, north of Kelmarane, first. We've seen fires there the past few nights and believe that they are more gnolls allied with the Carrion King. But, if you are worried for your friend we can return to Kelmarane."

Bree nodded. "The fort can wait."

Kelestair shook his head. "No. Your strategy is sound. Kelmarane has been receiving reinforcements regularly from the north. It is best that we prevent their aid from reaching the town before making another move against it."

Bree shook her head. "No! You're friend needs our help."

Kelestair nodded slowly. He looked torn. Hurt. "He might. But our aid will never reach him if we throw our lives away recklessly. It is best we are cautious."

"But, what if we're too late? What if - "

"Bree," Santon said simply, cutting her off again. "That's enough."

"He will understand." Kelestair said with a frown. "He... is my friend. He would not want me to throw my life away lightly."

"But what if - "

This time it was Kelestair who cut her off. "It is a difficult decision to make. Do not make it harder on me."

Bree frowned, though not as deeply as Kelestair. He looked so sad.

"There's a shrine nearby we can stay at." Santon said, changing the subject. "We've cleared it out already. It is a ruined temple to Nethys."

"Nethys? The God of Magic?"

Bree and Santon nodded.

"Interesting. Though I myself am a devout follower of the Dawnflower, I find his interest in magic intriguing."

Bree nearly choked. "_You_ worship Sarenrae?"

Kelestair looked at her. His eyes caught her own. They were filled with sorrow, pain and disappointment. She had hurt his feelings.

"I do," he said slowly. "She is the Goddess of redemption. Do you know another god who could save a monster, like myself?"

"I just didn't - " Bree blushed. "I didn't know she was worshipped in Cheliax."

"She isn't."

"Come on." Santon cut in with a smile. "It's not far to the shrine."

Kelestair nodded and followed Santon to the river's edge.

"I worship Cayden Cailean," Bree said to fill the silence. "Do you know of him?"

Kelestair nodded. "I am rather well read."

"He is god of freedom and good deeds. Well, among other things, of course. He could have saved you, as well. I know he saved me."

Kelestair turned to her. His red eyes locked with hers. "Some forms of bondage aren't as tangible as the ones your god is used to removing."

"Maybe you don't need redeeming, Kelestair," she replied. "Maybe the people who condemn you do." People like her.

Kelestair smiled at her, in a sad sort of way.

Bree nodded slowly. "Sarenrae is a good choice."

"She is my saviour, Bree. My salvation. She is not a choice."


	41. Chapter 40: The Ruined Fort

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Forty

The Ruined Fort

It was mid-afternoon the next day when they reached the fort. Bree hadn't slept well. Her dreams were troubled. She awoke tired and mired in guilt. She had offended Kelestair so much the previous day. He probably hated her.

Kelestair had spent much of the night patting his mangy old vulture who, turns out, was rather cantankerous. It squawked at her angrily each time she tried to approach. Its name was Husk. "We are kindred spirits." Kelestair had said when Bree had asked about the bird. "Our appearance colours others' perceptions."

He was a rather morose fellow. Broody. Haunted. Bree couldn't blame him.

Santon was the only one of them who got any sleep.

Bree stifled a yawn as she ducked behind a large boulder with her comrades. "Did you see anything?"

Santon shook his head.

"I'll go scout ahead," Bree said.

Kelestair put his hand upon her arm. Though his nails could have easily pressed into her flesh they did not. He was gentle.

"No, Bree," he said. "Let us see as the bird's do." He raised his arm and Husk swooped down, landing upon his antlers. Kelestair reached up and touched him, muttering something under his breath. "Fly, Husk," he said louder.

And he did. Husk took off from Kelestair's horns and soared up into the sky, circling around the fort. A few minutes later he returned. Kelestair patted him on the head affectionately. A small smile formed at the corner of his lips. It was plain he cared for the vulture greatly.

"There are a few gnolls in the vicinity. Half a dozen, at least. The fort itself is a crumbled ruin. Little more than a mound of rocks. There will be no surprises awaiting us, nor further reinforcements."

Santon smiled and drew his broadsword. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

Kelestair nodded. "May the light of the Dawnflower shine upon us."

"May Cayden's favour find us," Bree added with a smile. She raised her wineskin and took a deep swig. "A little liquid courage?"

Kelestair shook his head, though Santon smiled, grabbed the skin from her and took a deep drink. He passed it back and smacked his lips.

"Bitter brew," he said awkwardly.

Bree smiled and drew Tempest. "Oh, quiet."

"Cayden's codpiece!" Santon replied in a high-pitched voice, mocking her.

She scowled. "Oh, Cayden's curse upon you! Now hush, or I'll use my blade on you before the gnolls."

Santon smiled a large, boyish grin. "Yes, please. But, only if you promise I can use my blade on you afterwards." He winked. "Mine's rather large."

"Shall we?" Kelestair cut in sternly.

"Yeah, Santon," Bree muttered. "Leave the lady alone."

"Lady?" Santon sputtered. "I think not."

Bree frowned.

"Are you riled up, yet?" Santon asked her.

"You mean 'do I want to stab you?' "

"I mean 'do you want to stab something?' "

Bree nodded. "Yes. I want to stab you."

Santon smiled. "Excellent. Let's go."

They tore around the boulder with a scream, charging into the remains of the fort. Four gnolls reacted immediately, grabbing up their weapons in a flash. She didn't see the others.

Bree drew Tempest's icy blade across the first gnoll's throat. Behind her it gurgled, but she didn't slow. It was dead, it just hadn't realized it yet.

Santon impaled a second upon his blade, driving it straight through the gnoll's armour and stomache. It howled in pain. Kelestair lingered behind with the other two. Bree did not fear for him. He had handled himself admirably yesterday.

She ran on, further into the fort's crumbled walls. Two more gnolls charged at her. She didn't slow. The first swung at her sideways with a longsword, while the other raised it's axe for a downward cleave. Bree ducked under the sword, sliced its wielder across the stomache and then rolled to the side, dodging the axe blow. She sliced the gnoll before her again, and then bashed him in the face with her buckler.

The gnoll yelped in pain and dropped his sword. His partner turned on her, swinging wildly with his axe. Bree danced backwards, slipping out of the path of the gnoll's clumsy swings. The unarmed gnoll bent to retrieve his sword but Bree spun away from her attacker and behind him then sliced the unarmed gnoll's hand clean off.

He screamed and clutched at his frost-covered wrist.

She lashed out with Tempest and cut a series of strokes into the other gnolls legs. He fell to the ground, howling in pain.

Bree ran past them, leaving them to their bleeding wounds. In the distance she heard Santon roaring with anger. He was either boasting while he fought, or had actually found a challenge within these broken walls. Bree followed the sound of his voice and found him facing off against a rather strong looking gnoll. He was taller than the others, and more muscular. An innumerable number of scars marred his patchy fur. Santon swung at him in a wide arc with his broadsword, but the gnoll howled and met Santon's blade with his own. Santon followed up with another wide sweep, and then a downward cleave, but the gnoll managed to block both attacks. He retaliated with a few slashes of his own, causing Santon to back up.

The two were an even match.

Bree stepped forward to help Santon but heard a grunting sound behind her. A sharp pain tore through her thigh. She fell to the ground with a shriek of surprise.

"Bree!" Santon cried.

A dagger stuck out from her leg. Blood blossomed around it. She gritted her teeth. She tried to stand, but stumbled, falling back onto the ground.

A gnoll strode up to her, with another dagger in his hand. His second hand was missing. Cut off at the wrist. Bree frowned. _She_ had cut it off at the wrist. Broken tankard.

She tore the dagger from her leg. Blood gushed from the wound. The gnoll smiled at her hungrily. Bree threw the bloody dagger at it, but it struck his armour and fell to the ground. Bree tried to stand, but couldn't.

"Froth and foam," she cursed. "Please, my Lord. In Cayden's name..."

The gnoll raised the dagger and stepped closer to her, passing by a large boulder.

"Cayden's will be done." She raised her buckler before her. Maybe she could deflect the dagger.

The gnoll's muscles tensed.

A mace came crashing down upon his head. Kelestair stepped out from behind the boulder and bludgeoned it again. The gnoll stopped moving, but he struck it twice more.

His red eyes met hers. "Never leave an enemy alive behind you."

Bree nodded.

She turned to Santon, and found him losing ground. A series of cuts ran along his body. His armour was slick with blood. He needed her help.

Bree raised a hand to her leg, tried to relax, and prayed. The power of her god flowed through her. Distantly, through the songs and cheers filling her head; through the smells and the sights; she heard Kelestair mutter the words to a spell.

"Enfebastious vesral."

Power surged through Bree and she let it go, forcing it out of her body, and then back into it. Her leg tingled. The wound frothed beneath her hands. She was dizzy, then woozy. It felt suspiciously like she was drunk. She shook her head, and the world spun. The music faded. The cheers subsided. The smell of mead was replaced with the acrid tang of blood. She opened her eyes.

Kelestair stood beside her with Husk perched atop his head. He watched the battle before him impassively.

Santon still fought the gnoll, though his opponent seemed... smaller than before. Santon easily overtook him and ended his howling with a broadsword through the face. It was over in moments. Santon smiled and then nodded at Kelestair.

Kelestair's lip tilted up slightly and then returned to its solemn expression.

Bree smiled and stood up. "That's some spell you have there, Kelestair."

Kelestair eyed her for a moment, his gaze lingering on her newly healed leg. Or perhaps on her torn pants. "Your thoughts echo my own. Your god favours you."

Bree smiled. He did.

Kelestair nodded at the gnoll behind her. "Rejoice in his attentions, but do not let it make you reckless. I doubt you will be called back from the dead."

Bree's smile faded. Wasn't he a sober preacher! Well, perhaps she _could_ be a little more cautious in the future.

"I will not always be there to save you," he finished.

Santon laughed and clapped Kelestair on the back. "Sure you will," he said with a chuckle. "Bree here's like a tumour. She grows on you."

Kelestair raised an eyebrow slightly. "Oh?"

Bree frowned. "Hey!"

Santon simply nodded and whispered to Kelestair in a conspiratory tone. "You'll see."

"I'm sure." Kelestair responded. He didn't sound convinced.


	42. Chapter 41: A Broken Heart

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Forty-one

A Broken Heart

Bree smiled. They had decided the time had come to return to the monastery. The surrounding environs were free of threats, and the time had come to strike out at Kelmarane. Their employer deserved to know their progress. Their comrades deserved to know the fate of Nes and Fudin. Kelestair wished to find his friend, Oxvard. And Bree couldn't wait to find Trevvis and -

Well... She was excited to say the least. And now they were here! Bree led the way over the last ridge and eyed the monastery with pride. Together they had made this a safe place. A haven amidst the dangers of the desert.

Standing watch on the monastery's perimeter was Dashki. He raised his hand when he saw them. It was more a gruff acknowledgement than a greeting. Still, the sight of him - of life - at the place she helped rebuild made her smile.

"That's Dashki," she heard Santon saying over her shoulder. "He's a tracker and an expert on gnolls and their ways."

Bree raced down the ridge towards the monastery. She was surprisingly happy to be back.

"How useful," Kelestair replied. "I shall talk with this man. Perhaps we will have knowledge to impart upon each other."

Bree nodded at Dashki as she neared him. He eyed them curiously.

"Where are the others? Nes and Fudin?"

The smile slipped from her face.

"I'll handle it," Santon called.

Dashki grimaced, but nodded, allowing her to pass.

Bree walked briskly through the halls, looking for Trevvis. She found him in the cloister walk with Brotis and Kallien. He was leaning against one of the carved walls with his back to her. He talked and laughed with the women. Bree's heart fluttered. She had missed him.

Brotis caught her eye and smiled. She threw her arms around Trevvis and kissed him deeply on the lips.

Bree froze. She dropped her bag on the floor with a loud thump.

She couldn't believe it. How could he? And with _her_? Tears welled up in her eyes and threatened to fall. She blinked, holding them in. She would _not_ cry. Not in front of _her_. She wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

Brotis let go of Trevvis, made a show of noticing Bree, and then formed her mouth into a perfect little 'o.' Her eyes twinkled in triumph.

Trevvis turned and spotted Bree. His face was a mix of shock and anger.

Bree forced herself to pick up her bag, and then walked away from them, around the cloister walk in the other direction.

Behind her Trevvis sputtered. "Star flower! Wait! It's not what it looks like."

Bree ignored him and stalked into the room they shared. She threw her bag into the corner, picked up Trevvis' gear and began tossing it out into the hallway.

"Wait, Star Flower!" Trevvis said.

Bree picked up his extra boots and hurled them at him.

Trevvis ducked beneath one and took the other to the face.

Bree smiled cruelly and kicked the rest of his clothes out into the hall.

Trevvis recovered himself, ignored his things and walked right up to Bree. "Star flower, I - "

Bree scowled. "Don't!"

"But, I - "

"I said don't!"

"No! Star flower I - "

"I don't want to talk to you! I don't care what excuse you've come up with! Get out!"

Trevvis frowned and stepped forward. He reached out for her, trying to grab her by the shoulder.

Bree punched him squarely in the jaw.

Trevvis' head swiveled back. Blood trickled from his lip.

Bree cringed. She hadn't meant to... He had just...

Trevvis looked at her with fury. He grabbed her by the wrist, pulled her close to him and held her tightly by the shoulders.

She struggled against him, but her heart wasn't in it. She hadn't meant to hit him. She hadn't meant to hurt him. She cared for him.

Trevvis looked her in the eyes and squeezed her arms. "Stop it, Star flower!" he spat. "You're being a child!"

Bree's shoulders felt as if they were bruising under Trevvis' hands. She shuddered as she looked up at him. He was so angry. So hurt.

He tightened his grip.

Bree grimaced.

Wait a minute! She had just caught him kissing another woman and he had the nerve to call her a child? As if she were immature? Over-reacting?! Naive!

Bree glared back at Trevvis defiantly. "Let go of me."

Trevvis tightened his grip and shook his head. "No! Not until you listen! I don't want that whore! I want you!"

"The you should have kept your lips to yourself!"

"It wasn't me! She was - "

"Let go of me, Trevvis. I don't care about your excuses."

Trevvis glared down at her and Bree glared right back. The silence hung heavily around them.

"Now," she said sternly.

Trevvis' eyes never left hers. Never faltered. He lunged down at her and pressed his lips roughly against hers.

She wanted him so badly. His kiss. His touch. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him back. To throw him onto the floor and tear his clothes off. He was so fierce. So passionate.

But, no. Bree couldn't do that. She _wouldn't_ do that. Not anymore.

Bree bit him hard in the lip. Trevvis pulled back in shock. Bree head-butted him, causing everything to spin slightly. His grip loosened on her shoulders. He let go.

"That's what you should have done," she said growled. "Anything less is betrayal."

She didn't mean it. She wanted him to get up from the floor with tears of remorse dribbling down his cheeks. She wanted him to apologize. To kiss her again. To say he cared.

He didn't. Instead, he stood up and glared at her. "You're mine, Star Flower. We're meant to be together."

Bree shook her head. "Get out."

He shook his head. "You don't mean that."

"Don't I?" she stated with a raised eyebrow. She didn't.

Trevvis looked as if he would try to touch her again, but a deep, gravelly voice caused him to pause.

"I think the lady asked you to leave." Kelestair had come.

Trevvis' gaze hardened, but he backed down. This was no longer between the two of them.

"I'll be waiting for you, Star Flower. When you realize you've made a mistake, you come find me. I'll take you back." Then he turned, and walked away.

Bree let her facade crumble. Her hands trembled. Her body began to shake. Her face twisted into a look of utter remorse. She sobbed and tears poured down her cheeks.

What had she done? She had cared for Trevvis. She should have taken him back. She should have apologized for hitting him. For biting him. For causing him pain. It was all Brotis' fault, not Trevvis'.

A hand gently fell upon her shoulder.

"I..." Kelestair started awkwardly, before stopping. "Do you want..." Kelestair paused again. "I will get Santon," he eventually finished. And then he was gone.

Bree was alone with her guilt. With her pain. Her regret.

Santon and Kelestair returned a few moments later.

"Oh, Bree." Santon said softly. He placed his hand upon her shoulder. "Don't cry over him. The dog isn't worth the effort."

Bree shook her head between heaves. Snot and tears covered her face. How ugly she must look. How immature. Trevvis was right. She was being a child.

"No," she managed to gasp between her sobs. "It was my fault. I should have blamed Brotis, not - "

Kelestair scoffed. "The blame is shared by both parties. The outcome obvious. If he was not prepared for the repercussions of his actions then he is as ignorant as he is foul-tempered."

Bree shook her head, but Santon nodded. "Kelestair's right, Bree. Trevvis doesn't deserve you. He's a fool."

Bree shook her head. She closed her eyes and cried. They didn't understand. Trevvis was... her first. She had cared for him. She had loved him. Or at least she thought she had... And now she had wrecked it. He would never forgive her. She had lost him. How could she have been so stupid?

Sorrow overtook her. She cried until no more tears would come, and then kept crying. She heaved, her body wracked with sobs.

Santon stayed with her all through the night. He slept in the doorway.

Kelestair left only once to ensure his friend Oxvard was safe. He did not sleep at all.

Bree could feel Trevvis' eyes upon her through the night but he never came to speak to her. He just watched. Lingered. He was always just out of sight.

His presence was a dagger in her broken heart.

His silence, a twist of the blade.


	43. Chapter 42: A Lover Scorned

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Forty-two

A Lover Scorned

By morning Bree had finally stopped crying. She lay there, on the floor of her room, dejected. Hollow. Empty.

Santon slept soundly in the doorway. Kelestair sat in the corner, watching her silently.

Eventually he spoke. "We will move on to Kelmarane without you, today."

Bree shook her head. "No," she croaked. Her throat felt like she had scrubbed it down with sand. "I'll come."

"You may be a liability."

"I won't be."

Kelestair paused. "It is understandable to remain behind. No one would think less of you."

Bree sat up. She eyed Kelestair fiercely. "I'm not staying here. You're not leaving without me."

Kelestair nodded slowly. He rose to his feet. Husk waddled into the room awkwardly.

"Prepare yourself, then," Kelestair said. "I will rouse our comrade for breakfast." He nodded at Husk. Husk reached his cruel looking beak down to Santon's ear and squawked loudly.

Santon cried out and jumped to his feet.

"Come," Kelestair said simply. "The time for rest is over."

Beneath her red-rimmed, aching eyes and chapped lips, Bree smiled. The time for mourning had passed. There was work to be done.

Breakfast turned out to be a heavy affair. Potatoes and chicken with gigantic eggs on the side, each as big as Bree's torso. Hadrah and Hadrod fed them happily, lingering to chat with the new face.

"And how large his horns are!" Hadrah whispered to her husband when she thought she was out of earshot. "Did you see his eyes? Like a - "

"Devil's! Or at least I'd imagine so. Never seen one myself, have I dear?"

Kelestair ignored the couple and kept his eyes glued to his breakfast. Husk ate at the table beside him.

Bree found herself ravenous. All that crying had made her work up an appetite and by the time she was done she had eaten at least enough for three. Only Husk ate more. The bird was a beast!

They finished just as Trevvis arrived. His friends stood behind him. Brotis wore a large smile plainly upon her face. Kallien looked disgruntled. Trevvis looked oddly sad. Perhaps he regretted what he had done.

"Time to go," Kelestair stated. "We have much to accomplish today."

Santon nodded. "Yeah, let's go. Bree?"

Bree rose from her seat without a word. Trevvis opened his mouth to speak and she quickly looked to the ground. Tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn't talk to him now. She wasn't ready.

"Star Flower," he said softly, "I - "

"I can't talk now, Trevvis," Bree cut in. She never raised her eyes from the floor.

"But, Star Flower, just - "

"Not now."

Trevvis reached out a finger, placed it under her chin, and raised her face upwards. His eyes were determined, but sad. They were as rimmed in red as her own. He had been crying.

"Talk to me when you get back, Star Flower. Please. I'll be waiting for you."

Santon wrapped his arm around Bree's shoulders. "Come on, Bree, it's time to go."

Trevvis' eyes narrowed. Bree let herself be led away.

* * *

Kelmarane was crawling with gnolls. Twice as many patrols walked the streets as the previous days. They were far more alert. Attentive. They were looking for Kelestair.

Though she didn't fear the gnolls, there were definitely too many to be trifled with. They would have to be clever. Careful.

"There," Kelestair said. He pointed at one of the two buildings on the outskirts of the town which backed onto the river. "No gnolls have approached that building. It would be a good place to start."

"If might have something worse than gnolls inside," Santon replied.

Kelestair shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Whatever the case, the gnolls are not patrolling that far away from the heights. It is a good place to start."

Bree nodded. "We would be close enough to get a better look at the town, at least."

"If Felliped escaped it would be as good a place as any to hide."

Santon nodded and then smiled. "Ladies first?"

Bree drew Tempest. A comforting chill surrounded her. A familiar, patchy mould drifted up her arm. Bree nodded grimly. She was not afraid. She crept forward, keeping to the underbrush as best as she could. Despite what Santon had said, he was right beside her. Kelestair took the rear and Husk flew above, circling lazily in the skies.

They approached the building without difficulty. A faint singing drifted out from it's windows.

Someone was inside. A woman, by the sounds of it. Rather talented but -

Santon stood up, straight, and smiled. "What a beautiful song."

Bree grabbed his for his arm but missed. "Get down!"

Santon ignored her and walked right up to the building's front door. Kelestair raised an eyebrow at him, but followed.

Bitter brew! Santon was going to get them all killed! What was wrong with him?

"Santon!" Bree hissed. "Wait."

But he didn't. He strolled right up to the front door and knocked.

"Come in," the voice sang.

Santon stepped into the building. Kelestair followed him, a few paces behind.

"Froth and foam!" Bree cursed. She dashed to the building and entered directly behind Kelestair. What was wrong with them?

The building was rather large and entirely one room. It was filled with all kinds of cauldrons and beakers, many of which contained strangely coloured bubbling liquids. The place stunk and caused her nose to burn and her eyes to water.

A winged woman stood beside the largest cauldron, stirring it as she sung to herself. Her skin was bronze, though her shoulders, lower arms and lower legs were covered in dull, brown, soot-stained feathers. Her features were sharp, and bird-like, but she was undoubtedly a humanoid. In place of nails she had black, cruel looking claws, and her feet ended in a bird's talons. She wore a thick, leather apron, stained blue and black in places. She smiled, revealing sharp teeth. She was a harpy.

Bree opened her mind to the aura's around her. The bird woman radiated evil. So did some of her concoctions. Bree frowned and tightened her grip on Tempest.

Santon walked up to the harpy and smiled. "What's a beauty like you doing in this flea-ridden town?"

Oh, gods! They had walked right into the clutches of a harpy - beasts known for devouring travellers and eating their bones - and Santon had decided to hit on her? Bree gagged.

The harpy smiled and stopped her singing. "Mmm," she groaned. "It's just a place to set up my lab, my pet."

Santon smiled and puffed out his chest.

Bree crept closer to Kelestair and whispered into his ear. "She's evil."

Kelestair didn't respond.

The harpy stepped closer to Santon. "You're here to kill us all, aren't you?"

Santon nodded dumbly.

Foul brew! Bree couldn't believe it. The fool!

"I don't like the gnolls," the harpy said with a sly smile. "But, they leave me be and so I let them be."

"Santon," Bree hissed.

He ignored her and the harpy continued. "Their leader is powerful. I could tell you all about him, if you like. Would you like that, my pet?"

Santon nodded.

Bree frowned. "Why would you do that?" she asked.

The harpy never looked at her, only at Santon. She raised a wicked looking claw and drew it along Santon's chin. "He is cruel to me," she pouted. "I want you to kill him for me." She batted her crusty eyelashes at Santon. "But it would put me in great danger if I just sent you off to face him without testing you first. Wouldn't it, my pet?"

Santon nodded.

"Why?" Bree asked with suspicion.

"If you find him without much trouble he'll know I had a hand in it. I need to make sure that if you face him, you can kill him. My lover has quite the temper."

"Your lover?"

The harpy nodded and pouted at Santon. She batted her eyelashes again. "There is a snake. A rather large snake. It lairs in the collapsing building across the river. I want you to bring me it's head, for my brew. If you do, I'll betray my lover for you."

Santon nodded and puffed out his chest. "I'll do it!" he answered without a second thought.

Kelestair nodded.

Bree frowned. What had this harpy done to her friends? Worse yet, what was she planning for them?

Santon turned and stalked out of the building without another word. Kelestair nodded at the harpy and then turned as well.

Bree lingered behind. She could attack it. The harpy would fight back, of course, perhaps shriek loud enough to summon aid.

No. Best to stay with her comrades. She needed to figure out what was wrong with them. They could face her when they were all prepared. But, what if she called reinforcements as soon as they left her? Bree shook her head.

The harpy finally looked at her. She smiled, raised her hand, and waved farewell.

Oh, by Cayden's name, how she wanted to slice that sly smile right from her ugly face! But she wouldn't. She wasn't sure if she could take the harpy on her own and, for the first time, she wasn't sure Santon would help.

No. Bree couldn't take the harpy out on her own and the harpy knew it.

The bitch.

Bree scowled and followed her friends out of the building. She wasn't sure what the harpy really was planning, but she was sure she wouldn't like it. She had to stop Santon before he walked right into a trap.


	44. Chapter 43: Forked Tongues

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Forty-three

Forked Tongues

Bree found Santon and Kelestair standing outside of a large building that was little more than a partially collapsed shell. A half burnt sign bearing the message '-AVE MARKET' hung askew over the entrance.

Bree reached for Santon and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him to face her. "What are you doing?"

Santon looked at her as if she were stupid. "_We're_ going to kill that snake like the lady asked us to. What are _you_ doing?"

Bree's eyes widened. Was he serious? "Lady?" Bree spat. "That lady is a foul creature known as a harpy."

Kelestair stared at her. "And?"

"They ambush travellers and devour them! She's as likely to eat you as thank you, never mind that she's working with the gnolls! She's probably warning them about you right now."

Santon shook his head. "She wouldn't do that."

"She reeked of evil, Santon. She's as foul as the others of her race! She _would_ do that."

Santon shook his head in disbelief. "She reeked of evil? You want us to go kill her because you think she smells?"

"What?! No, she - " How could she explain it? "Cayden Cailean has granted me the power to detect the evil in others. Her aura is evil. _She_ is evil."

"Everyone has a little darkness in them, Bree."

Bree gaped. Santon didn't believe her? He had never questioned her judgement before...

Kelestair finally spoke again. "Enough of your bickering. I will slay the snake on my own." He raised his arm causing Husk swoop down from the sky and land on the ground beside him. Kelestair opened the building's door and strode in purposefully. Husk shambled in beside him glaring daggers at Bree.

"No, Kelestair! Wait!"

But it was no use. Kelestair ignored her and when she let go of Santon to go after him, Santon just followed Kelestair. Bree cursed, tightened her grip on Tempest and followed her comrades into the snake's lair.

The interior of the building was a large mound of debris. Everything was coated with a thick layer of ash and soot. Suddenly it became clear what had destroyed this building, at least. Fire.

Kelestair strode over the debris without a second thought with Husk hopping along beside him. Santon followed him. Bree inched around the room, staying to the shadows with her back to the wall. She looked around warily. She didn't see any gnolls lurking about. She didn't see any traps waiting to be sprung or hear any alarm bells being rung. Perhaps this was just a snake's lair. But, what kind of snake? Bree ducked down, looking through the debris and old, burnt timbers for any signs of movement. This place was huge! The snake could be anywhere.

Santon stood atop the pile of debris kicking wood and stone around in an effort to scare the snake out of hiding. Nothing moved. Nothing shifted. Nothing made a sound.

Husk let out a strangled cry. Kelestair let out a yell then charged down the other side of the debris.

"By the gods!" Santon muttered as he chased after him.

Bree stood erect and tried to spot the commotion, but couldn't see to the other side of the building. "Foul Brew!" She raced along the edges of the room, skirting the debris and wreckage. She heard Santon roar. Kelestair pronounced a strange series of words that Bree had not heard him use before. Spellcasting, no doubt. She did not hear Husk.

Bree tore around the corner, Tempest in hand and charged forward.

Kelestair and Santon stood above a giant snake. It was at least fifteen feet long and had massive, venom dripping fangs. It's body was blackened, almost as if it's skin had been rotting away. It was clearly dead. Husk slipped out from the snake's coils, stumbling but otherwise unharmed.

"What happened to it?" Bree asked warily as she sheathed Tempest.

"It died." Santon raised his greatsword high and brought it down, slicing the snake's head from its rotting body.

Kelestair nodded. "What a strange specimen."

With the snake head in tow, Santon marched right out of the wrecked building and back to the harpy. Bree kept Tempest in her hands, ready for an ambush, but it never came. They made it to her lair and entered without difficulty. Santon strode across the room and tossed the snake at the hideous harpy's feet.

"Oh, perfect!" She snatched the massive snake head off the floor and dropped it into the bubbling cauldron before her. "You have proved yourself worthy indeed, my pet!"

Santon puffed up his chest. The harpy reached out a clawed finger and stroked his cheek with it.

"It was nothing."

The harpy smiled. "My name is Undrella. This has been my home longer than the gnolls and humans. They are but squatters. Newcomers. I have lived here since just after Kelmarane fell, and will live here as long as I am able. It has wonderful facilities."

Kelestair and Santon nodded.

"You said you would tell us of the gnoll leader's weaknesses," Bree cut in. "I care not for your life story."

Undrella smiled. "Oh, I think you will." She looked to Santon. "Did you know your friend was rude?"

Santon nodded dumbly.

Undrella shrugged. "As long as you know." She rubbed her chin. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes. There has always been a... foul presence in Kelmarane. Something dark and twisted."

"Other than you, you mean?" Bree cut in.

Undrella ignored her. "I imagine it was the cause of the town's downfall, but that is simple speculation. I have always stayed on the town's outskirts for that very reason. To avoid it. Four months ago someone strode into town, searched around a bit, and headed straight for the desecrated temple. He entered its earthen crypts by drifting right through it's walls, and emerged a few days later, swelling with power and purpose. Whatever he found down there had tainted him. Suffused him with its power. Perhaps even its intent."

"Who was this person?"

"His name was Kardswann. He looked like a man, but did not, at the same time. He was something... more than a man. And when he emerged he was, well, you'll see for yourselves soon. He emerged from the crypts and challenged the nearby Kulldis tribe's leader in one on one combat. He won and became it's new chieftain."

Bree's jaw dropped. Kardswann? The Templar? But why would...? No. It was impossible! He would have to be ancient. Not even a genie could live _that_ long, could they?

Kelestair nodded. "Gnolls are often ruled by whomever is the strongest among them. It is conceivable this Kardswann fellow could earn a whole tribe by simply killing the tribe's leader."

"And he did, at first. He gathered a tribe of gnolls around him and then allied with the Carrion King. He took Kelmarane for his own and, as I have many useful talents, he offered me a place in his tribe as his consort. I did not wish to leave my lab, so I accepted. But, he is cruel to me. Kind and loving one moment, and violent and rash the next. I've received more bite marks and bruises these past months than I have my whole life." Undrella paused and caressed Santon's face. "But now you've come, my pet. You'll save me, won't you? You'll defeat Kardswann."

Santon nodded. "Of course I will, Undrella."

"Mmm. How delightful." Undrella dug into one of her stained pockets and pulled out two keys. She handed them to Santon. "Take these. The first is for the Battle Market in Upper Kelmarane. It opens all the doors within. The second is for the cells which are used for both prisons and personal chambers."

"You promised us information, not a key," Bree cut in suspiciously. "What is Kardswann's weakness?"

"Can't you just be grateful, child? I've already told you his weakness. He is proud and newly in charge. He will have to accept any challenges you put to him or his gnolls would view him as weak. This he will not abide. He will not take the chance."

"That's it? He's proud? That's really the best you can come up with?"

Undrella rolled her eyes. "You humans. So greedy." She took a deep breath and exhaled. "Very well. He has twenty-nine gnolls left under his command as well as four trained hyenas. Many of the gnolls are no stronger than those you have doubtless faced already. Kardswann's lieutenant is stronger. He is a flind gnoll named Ugruk. You will known him by his weapon. It is a flindbar."

"A flindbar?" What on Golarion was that?

"Imagine two light morningstars joined together by a short chain connecting their handles. He wields them capably. There are also many merchants and outcasts within the Battle Market. Some of the would aid Kardwsann, others would not, and still others would fight against him. The smugglers will most certainly stay out of the battle, as will a few of the pit fighters, but the bugbears will fight against you."

"Are there any prisoners left in the Battle Market?" Kelestair asked.

"The last were killed shortly after you left. But, one of your comrades escaped into Lower Kelmarane. As far as I know he lurks there still."

"Felliped lives, then," Kelestair muttered under his breath.

"Is there a woman among the pit fighters?" Santon asked. He shook his head as if to clear it. "A human woman?"

Undrella raised an eyebrow. "There is one."

Santon nodded, opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. He had either forgotten what he was about to say, or thought better of asking.

Bree cocked her head to the side. Did he know someone who was here, or just hope for some attractive women to save? Knowing Santon it was probably the latter. He _had_ grown bored with both Brotis and Almah, after all. He was smart to let the matter drop before the harpy. She seemed the jealous type.

"One more thing," Undrella added after a moment. "There are two other beasts under the Kulldis tribe's control. The first is a dire boar named Old Bonegrinder who can be found in one of the buildings down the street, at the base of the cliff directly south of the Battle Market. He is a foul tempered thing that the gnolls feed daily."

Bree nodded. So that was one of the creatures they had noticed the other day.

"The second is an antlered, bird-like creature known as a peryton. It devours beating hearts, and has a human-shaped shadow which it steals from its victims. Beware of it. If it darkens the skies above you, run for cover."

"Is that all?"

Undrella nodded. "Now get out of my lab and go kill Kardswann."

Santon smiled. "You are my kind of woman."

Undrella smiled and stroked his cheek with her clawed fingers. "_You_ come see me when you're done, my pet." She winked of her crusty eyelashes.

Santon smiled and puffed out his chest.

Bree gagged. Cayden's codpiece, this was gross! "Come on." She left the harpy's lair. Kelestair followed, but Santon stayed behind for a few more moments, posturing before the harpy. Eventually he joined them in the streets.


	45. Chapter 44: Wharfmaster Manor

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Forty-four

Wharfmaster Manor

"Only twenty-nine gnolls left..." Kelestair mused aloud. "Most of them are patrolling the town, then."

Santon nodded, but Bree shook her head.

"That's _if_ the harpy was telling the truth."

"Of course Undrella told us the truth."

Bree rolled her eyes. Why did Santon have to turn into a complete idiot when faced with anything with breasts? "I'm not convinced."

Kelestair shook his head. "It matters not. The gnolls are staying in Upper Kelmarane for now, so we should investigate the lower slopes. Felliped may still be alive among these broken eaves and if Undrella was correct, so will the boar."

Bree nodded. "You're right. If we can find your friend and scour these buildings for danger we can return tomorrow to take on the upper slopes."

"Agreed. But we go in as far as we can today. I want to take on this Kardswann fellow myself." Santon almost seethed with anger. Or perhaps it was jealousy. Bree couldn't be sure.

Santon led the way through the streets of Lower Kelmarane with Kelestair at the rear. Husk flew overhead, mingling with the other carrion feasters nearby. Vultures were such tenacious creatures. And so ugly! They were by far Bree's least favourite of all the new creatures she had seen in these lands.

They entered each building cautiously. At first all they found for their trouble was mice, bugs and dirt. Then they came to a large building that was in good shape. It was a handsome, three story manor looking out over the river. Felliped couldn't possibly be in _here_, could he? It practically screamed comfort. He's have to be a fool to hide here. Or brilliant.

Santon moved to the front door and tried the handle, but it was locked. He shrugged, lifted his leg and kicked the door in, right off its hinges.

Kelestair winced at the sound. "Perhaps we could simply try a window, next time?"

"I'm a front door kind of man, myself. But, if you prefer creeping in through windows..."

Kelestair didn't seem to react.

"Just go!" Bree hissed at them.

Santon stepped into the building and moved cautiously into the foyer. It was dirty, but well-maintained. Someone was obviously living here. Bree only hoped it was Felliped.

They continued through the manor, one room at a time. Bree had the strange feeling that she was being watched. She clutched Tempest tighter and raised her buckler a little higher. Something wasn't right.

They didn't run into a single person on the entire first floor. Cautiously, they ascended the stairs. As they neared the second floor landing a gnoll leapt out from around the corner and threw himself into Santon. They fell crashing into Bree and, in turn, into Kelestair. They all tumbled down the stairs in a heap.

Bree knocked her head against something, but couldn't be sure what it was. Armour? Floor? Someone's elbow? She shook her head and tried to stand. Her limbs were tangled beneath the other's and their gear. She stumbled and fell back into the pile. Arrows streaked down from the second floor landing, piercing the floor and flesh around her.

Bree groaned, shook her head and struggled to her feet.

The gnoll amongst them had been killed in the fall, but at least six other gnolls fired arrows at them from above. Bree clutched Tempest to her, but an arrow pierced her arm. She screamed. Kelestair and Santon grunted in pain. Bree held her buckler before her and dashed up the stairs on shaky legs.

Two arrows streaked past her, slicing her skin shallowly, and a third embedded itself into her buckler. She reached the landing, still dizzy from the fall. She waved Tempest before her, causing what was either one gnoll, or three, to back up. They dropped their bows in unison, and each drew a heavy looking mace. Behind him a dozen other gnolls fired arrows at the landing below.

Bree shook her head. The room continued to spin. The trio of gnolls approached her, waving their weapons hypnotically. Bree tensed. Where had they all come from?

"In Cayden's name."

She blinked, and then they were gone. Her vision had righted itself. One gnoll charged her, waving his mace in the air before him. Behind him, eight other gnolls fired arrows below.

Bree smiled. She liked these odds much better.

The gnoll was vicious, but slow. Bree stepped to the side, avoiding his wild swing and sliced him alongside his ribs, from front to back. It howled in pain and lashed out with its mace again, swinging it from before him, around to his back. Bree stepped further out of his way, leading the beast around the corner, away from his comrades.

The gnoll followed dumbly, swinging and missing, swinging and missing until it was out of sight. It growled at her as she backed down the hallway. She was running out of room. The gnoll smiled cruelly. It thought it had her.

Bree smiled and slashed at the gnoll with Tempest as he hefted his heavy mace high above him. She sliced a frosty line across his chest and then another, before driving her scimitar into his chest, between his ribs.

The gnoll yelped in pain and tried to bring his mace down on her. She withdrew her blade and hopped backwards. The gnoll dropped his mace and fell to the floor in a pool of his own blood. Bree stepped over his body and raced back to the landing.

Santon and Kelestair fought back to back against the gnolls. Husk swooped over head, diving at their enemies with jagged talons. Two of the gnolls were dead on the floor around them, one from deep slashes from a broadsword and the other from what looked like puncture wounds, though no arrows were embedded in his skin. Santon bled slowly from a few arrow wounds, two of which still held whole arrows jutting from them. Kelestair appeared unwounded and stronger than usual. His muscles bulged and flexed with every motion.

Bree dashed around Santon and lunged at the nearest gnolls with Tempest. He stepped back, bumping into his friend which Kelestair ended with a vicious blow to the head. Husk swooped down at the other and dug his talons deep into the gnolls face. The gnoll screamed and batted at the bird.

Bree sliced his neck open cleanly, causing blood to gush from the wound. He fell to the floor clutching at his throat. Bree looked past him in time to see a gnoll draw back his bowstring. It let go, sending his arrow flying at Bree. Bree threw he buckler up in front of her face. The arrow slammed into it with enough force to push her arm into her nose. Froth and foam, that was close! She lowered her shield enough to glance at the gnoll.

Santon had charged him and was swinging wildly with his broadsword. The gnoll stumbled back, trying to keep both his body, and his bow, out of the way of the sword. Bree walked after them. The gnoll spared a glance her way. It was all Santon needed. He drove his sword right through the gnoll. It's eyes widened in shock and then went dull. It was dead already.

She turned to help Kelestair, but found it unnecessary. The other three gnolls lay dead around him. Husk was already feasting on their corpses. Kelestair was covered with blood, though none of it appeared to be his own. His muscles slowly shrunk down to their original size.

Bree raised an eyebrow.

"Nice job, Kel." Santon said with a smile. "You almost look as good as I do with all those bulging muscles."

Kelestair's head cocked to the side slightly. "Yes, well, I..." He obviously didn't know how to respond to the compliment.

"Don't get too flustered. I said _almost_ as good. Not _as_ good."

Bree shook her head. "Sit down before you fall down, Santon."

Santon smiled, but nodded. He laid down on the floor.

Bree knelt over him and placed on hand upon his head and another upon his chest.

"You know, I can think of better reasons for you to touch me."

Bree rolled her eyes. "I can't. Now quiet."

Santon mumbled something else but by then Bree was ignoring him. She closed her eyes, emptied her mind and let go. "In Cayden's name," she prayed. "Lend me your luck. Lend me your favour. Let me save this man." Bree became lost in the revelry funneled through her. She let the energy build up, and then let it go, pushing it out into Santon. Her head cleared, the noises left her, and beneath her hands Santon shuddered. His wounds frothed and foamed, disappearing under her touch. She smiled. Santon looked as good as new and she didn't feel nearly as weak as she usually did. She was getting better at this. "Cayden's will be done."

Santon stumbled to his feet. He wobbled like a drunk, and then fell back down to the floor. He looked like he was going to be sick.

Bree frowned. "Too much?"

He nodded his head and turned a little green. "Mmm hmm."

On second thought, perhaps she still had some room for improvement.


	46. Chapter 45: The Fate of Felliped

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Forty-five

The Fate of Felliped

They continued their search of the manor but found little else of interest. It was clear that the gnolls had been living here at least part of the time, though they always seemed to be hiding their tracks. They were likely guards who had been shirking their duties. If they weren't already dead they would certainly have regretted their inattentiveness.

Bree was happy to find herself back out in the sun. The upper floors of the manor had stunk like wet dog. She gripped Tempest tightly in her hands. It kept her cool. Helped her focus.

The next building they came to had a broken sign swinging out front and a large, half-collapsed stable attached to its back. It probably used to be Kelmarane's Inn. It looked barren, but Bree was cautious just the same. They searched around the perimeter.

"No one's been in here," Santon complained. "Let's just go."

Kelestair shook his head. "Tracking is not my specialty. I cannot be sure."

Bree nodded. "Kelestair's right. We'd better check it out."

Santon groaned and cast another wistful look up the cliffside to Upper Kelmarane. Was he still pining for that harpy? He'd better snap out of it soon. His recklessness could get them all killed.

They entered the building as they had all the others, though Santon soon lagged behind, falling to the back of the line, leaving Bree to lead. With little room to fly, Husk lurched after them in his awkward, hopping gait.

The inside of the inn proved to be much nicer than the outer facade had suggested. What Bree had thought was the building collapsing was simply the outer layer of tiles, bricks and decorations. From the inside it was easy to tell the building itself was not only still whole, but also still stable. The inn was, as they had expected, empty.

They moved into the stables. Bree heard heavy breathing from somewhere ahead, but couldn't pinpoint its location. She raised her hand, signaling everyone to stop. She strained her hearing, trying to locate the noise. It was breathing, alright. Heavy. Fast. Panicked, even. It was scared, whatever it was. Cautiously, Bree moved towards the sound. "Show yourself." "Y-y-you're p-p-eeeeeople?" the voice asked. "N-n-n-not gnolls?"

Bree nodded. "Yes, we're human. We're here to help."

A shape in the darkness ahead shifted, and then threw itself at Bree's feet. She tensed, but didn't move.

"Oh, p-p-praise the gods!" the man stuttered. He was wounded and obviously terrified. Though some of the wounds marring his pale skin looked to be from combat, many more appeared to be the result of torture. He wore a dented helmet upon his head, a torn and near useless leather shirt, and clutched a rusted spear in his shaking hands. "Take me aw-w-w-way from here! Quick before - "

"Greetings, Felliped."

The man's eyes widened. "K-k-k-kelestair? Oh! I- I would have come b-b-b-back for you, of c-c-course!"

Kelestair made no reaction and Felliped continued to stammer out an apology.

"I w-w-w-won't say annnn-y anything! Didn't! Didn't say anything! Ab-b-bout you to anyone. To the gnoooooolls, I mean!"

Kelestair nodded once. "I am certain you would not have revealed any of our comrades secrets or history to the gnolls. You are far too smart for that, are you not, my friend?"

Felliped nodded vigorously.

"I am sure that you would have returned for Oxvard and I, as I have returned for you, Felliped. Do not fear my retribution."

Felliped continued to nod. "Did you b-b-b-bring back Elsbeth?"

Kelestair froze. "Elsbeth died, Felliped. She could not be saved."

"Y-yes, but did you b-b-bring her back?"

"She is _gone_, Felliped," Kelestair said through gritted teeth. "There would not be much left for you to _bury_."

Bree frowned. Poor Felliped was obviously traumatized. He was having trouble letting go and Kelestair was finding it difficult to talk about his deceased friends. Bree could understand. She found it hard to even think of Nes, never mind to speak of him...

Felliped nodded again. "Yes, but..."

"Enough on this topic, Felliped. Do not speak of it. She is gone. I cannot change that. Pray to your devil god if you wish her returned to you."

Felliped fell silent. Bree froze.

His devil god? Felliped worshipped Asmodeus? Of course, he did. How could she be so foolish? Kelestair had said that he and his comrades were pathfinders from Cheliax. Everyone there worshipped the Devil Lord Asmodeus.

With shaking hands, Bree opened her eyes, and widened her sight, taking in the auras around her. She sighed in relief. Despite his evil patron, Felliped was not evil himself. His devil-god's taint had not suffused his soul.

Bree blinked, allowing the auras to slip away. She offered her hand out to Felliped. "Come on. Let's get you someplace safe."

To her surprise, Kelestair shook his head. "We should continue on while the light is on our side."

"Yes," said Santon. "Hand the man some new gear and give him directions back to the monastery."

"What? You want to send him back alone?"

Santon nodded. "The way is clear. He'll make it."

"No!" Bree growled.

"He could wait here for us, if you are opposed to his traveling alone," Kelestair said somberly.

"I can't believe you two!" Bree looked at Kelestair. "This man is your friend and you're more worried about the light?" She shook her head in disappointment. Kelestair did not shrink under her gaze. She turned her gaze to Santon. "And you're just worried about how long it will take you to kill Karsdwann and get back to your harpy whore!"

Kelestair shook his head and Santon glared right back at her.

"I was simply looking out for the entire group's best interests," Kelestair said calmly. "We do not know when the gnolls will discover us and attack the monastery. Our time must be used wisely."

"Do what you want, Bree," Santon spat. "But don't talk about what you don't know. Kardswann is not my only concern."

Bree frowned. "Come on, Felliped. I'll take you to safety."

Felliped reached up a quivering hand. "Thank you," he whispered.

Bree clutched his hand and pulled him to his feet. To her relief, neither Kelestair, nor Santon made any further complaints. She led Felliped out of the inn, past the harpy's lair, across the river and out of Kelmarane with her comrades following silently behind.

Felliped smiled when he passed the town's eastern boundary, and straightened up slightly. Bree smiled in turn. This was the right thing to do. The gnolls could wait. The entire journey Felliped's smile never faltered. When the monastery drifted into sight, he cried in relief.

Her comrades remained silent the whole trip.

Bree shrugged. They would get over it.


	47. Chapter 46: Eyes in the Sky

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Forty-six

Eyes in the Sky

Bree had barely gotten Felliped settled in the dining room with a plate of food and a cup of ale when the alarm rang out. She had run straight out of the dining room and through the monastery to the source of the yelling.

It was Brotis.

Bree frowned and as a sudden intense feeling of bitterness swept through her. "What is it?" she asked, deciding she was more worried for their lives than her continued avoidance of the jealous woman.

"I do not know." Brotis was agitated and clearly worried, but showed no sign of cowardice. "It was huge. I thought it a bird at first, but it is not like any I have seen before."

"A bird?" Santon asked, coming up from behind them. "You called the alarm for a bird?"

Brotis shook her head and twisted her thick lips into a sneer. By now the others were starting to gather around them. Kelestair and Dashki arrived first. Then Almah herself with her guards in tow.

"It was no bird and I am no fool!" Brotis spat. "It flew from Kelmarane, circled overhead and then returned to Kelmarane."

"Bitter brew."

Brotis nodded at her. "It was a scout," she said, letting her throaty, Kelesh accent take over. "And it found us."

"We should have pressed on." Santon shook his head. Behind him, Felliped hung his head in shame.

"No," Bree said. "We did what was right."

"And now they know we're here!" Santon yelled at her.

"They will not strike at us immediately. They must gather their forces." Kelesteir stated.

Dashki nodded. "Yes. They will attack late in the night, perhaps as early as tomorrow. It depends on their forces. They will not attack by day."

"They were scattered. On guard, but running low on allies. They do not have enough of a force at present to launch an attack," Kelestair said thoughtfully.

"So we will be a-a-alright?" Felliped asked tentatively.

Santon shook his head. "No. We have to move out come first light. We must bring the battle to them before they organize themselves to attack us here."

Kelestair and Dashki nodded.

"Very well." Almah stated in an obvious effort to regain control of her expedition. "You three will depart come dawn for the town." She gestured at Kelesteir, Santon and Bree. "You must finish the task I have given you else we may all face the results of your failure. We keep a triple watch tonight. We will all take a shift but the three. Even the newcomers."

Bree frowned. "Felliped's not ready for night watch." He was scared. Broken.

Almah's brown eyes became filled with anger. "He will have to be," she snapped. "And you will mind your place."

Bree frowned. A hand fell on her shoulder from behind. It felt familiar. Reassuring. Bree tensed, but did not respond. Almah had to assert her control or the others might panic. Bree understood, but found it difficult to resist the urge to yank the elaborate veil from her perfumed hair and smack Almah in the face.

Almah paused, but when Bree did not respond she nodded at the others. "Return to your duties. Dashki, Brotis, Podarn, you stay on watch. Spread out. Keep sharp."

Podarn bristled at the command. "I was ordered by those higher than you to stay at your side and protect you, Princess Roveshki. I will not neglect my duties."

"You will take a turn on watch, Podarn, and keep an eye out for gnolls, so as best to protect me. The others will maintain their posts until you are relieved."

Podarn's eyes narrowed. He glared at Almah, but swallowed his pride and slowly nodded. Apparently his allegiance to the Pactmaster's could be tempered in the right situations. Interesting.

"Return to your duties," Almah repeated said firmly. The others drifted away. Almah gave one final look at Bree, and then turned and walked back into the monastery with Garavel and all but one of her guards following.

Podarn, Brotis and Dashki spread out, their eyes drawn to the horizon.

Kelestair eyed Bree then drifted away. Santon followed, though he seemed upset. Did he miss the harpy so? Or was there something else drawing him to Kelmarane? What else could cause him to be so reckless all of a sudden?

The hand on her shoulder rubbed her gently. Bitter brew. Bree groaned. She had forgotten all about it.

"I worried for you, Star Flower."

Bree shrugged her way out from under Trevvis' hand. "Trevvis! I - "

"Let me come with you tomorrow. Let me stay by your side."

Bree shook her head. Come with her? She would be so distracted she would surely be skewered in the first battle! "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please, Star Flower. Let me - "

"No."

Trevvis frowned. His brown eyes were rimmed in red. He had been crying. Had it been over her? Again?

"Let me stay with you tonight, then," he pleaded. "Please, Star Flower."

Had he _really_ been crying over her? Did he care for her that much? Did it matter?

No. Trevvis had lost her trust.

"Who was it, you once lusted for?" Bree blurted out. Oh, Cayden's curse! Why had she asked that? It didn't matter anymore.

Trevvis frowned. His jaw hardened. "I don't know what you mean, Star Flower."

Bree's eyes narrowed. "Don't lie to me, Trevvis! I'm not blind! Who was it?"

"I care for only you!"

Bree watched Trevvis carefully. He was passionate, but not telling the truth. Tears threatened to flow. She blinked rapidly, and shook her head. "No. You don't."

"I cared for Yesper, once. But that time is passed. She chose another."

Bree nodded. At least it wasn't Brotis. Still, Trevvis was lying. Though he wished it to be true, he was not over Yesper. Had she only ever been a distraction? A second choice? How had she not seen it sooner?

Trevvis looked up at Bree and stepped closer. "Please, Star Flower. That was in the past."

"I don't think it is."

Trevvis opened his mouth to speak, but Bree just shook her head and walked away. Trevvis started after her, but paused, thinking better of it.

"Come back to me, Star Flower," he rasped. "Please come back."

But Bree walked away. She did not look back.


	48. Chapter 47: A Night Visit

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Forty-seven

A Night Visit

Bree left Trevvis outside and retired early. To her surprise, Kelestair and Santon were both already in the shrine. Santon slept, but Kelestair sat in the corner, patting Husk. He was brooding over something, though Bree couldn't be sure of what. He looked up at her as she entered. The slightest hint of a smile played upon the corner of his lips. He looked as if he were about to say something, but changed his mind.

"You've found your friends," Bree pointed out. "You don't have to help us any further."

He nodded his horned head slowly. "I have been..." he paused, apparently searching for the right word. "..contemplating that issue. Although Oxvard and Felliped are safe, I find cause to aid you still."

"You owe us nothing, Kelestair. Your help has been enough."

"I speak not of debts, Bree, but of logistics. Where would I go, if not to Kelmarane? How far would I get if the gnolls remain in power?"

Bree nodded, acknowledging his point. "I imagine these lands are hardly a safe place at the best of times."

Kelestair paused, his face inscrutable. "It is a noble goal to liberate this region from the gnoll hordes. My heart - and Sarenrae's - will be brightened by taking part. I will go with you tomorrow."

Bree smiled. Kelestair was a good man. It's was unfortunate his heritage cast such a shadow over him.

"Thank you," she said.

Bree lay down and tried to sleep. Santon breathed rhythmically beside her. Kelestair stroked Husk's inky feathers softly. After a few minutes he hummed quietly to the bird. Husk squawked loudly in response and Kelestair stopped abruptly.

"Quiet, Husk," he said sternly. His gravelly voice was soothing. Hypnotic, almost. "You'll wake them."

Bree smiled as she drifted off to sleep. Had she finally found a pair of trustworthy friends?

Bree awoke to gentle hands shaking her shoulder.

"Beware," Kelestair said quickly. "That call has gone out. Torches can be seen on the horizon."

Bree heard his words. She saw his mouth moving but nothing seemed to make sense. Beside her, Santon was rolling out of his bedroll. It must be important. What had he said?

Bree forced herself to sit up. "What?" she asked groggily.

"Torches, Bree. There are torches approaching."

Bitter brew! Had the gnolls moved against them already? She jumped out of her bedroll and slipped on her leather boots before grabbing Tempest and strapping it around her waist. She made it out of the room last, though not by much.

When she reached the outer door to the monastery she found a few others already there. Vodrave, Dullen and Yesper seemed to be in the center of it - they were likely the ones who had been on watch. In the distance Bree spotted a line of five points of flickering light approaching the monastery, though they came from the northern mountains, not Kelmarane.

"What is it?" Bree asked aloud.

Vodrave shook his head. The muscles in his neck were tight. He was on edge. "We don't know. Though they do not come from the town."

"That doesn't mean they're not enemies." Dullen cut in. Beside him, Yesper nodded meekly. Dullen wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. She seemed to perk up under his touch.

Bree suddenly found herself jealous. She shook her head. No. Now was not the time for that.

"Gnolls can see in the dark as if it were day. They would not need torches." Kelestair commented.

A few heads nodded in agreement.

Father Zastoran piped up. "Gnolls are not the only enemies in these parts."

"Just the most likely, old man," Trevvis added.

"Can you send Husk to spy on them, Kel?"

Kelestair shook his head. "She sees no better in the dark than you do. Worse perhaps. Still, she would likely be able to make out their race if she gets close enough."

Yesper frowned. "So what are you waiting for? Send your bird and see if they're gnolls. Then we'll know if we need kill them, or not."

Husk squawked at Yesper angrily and opened his wings, flapping them as if to intimidate her. Dullen tightened his hold on Yesper, pulling her closer. Kelestair's lips twisted down slightly.

"You are presuming race determines ones actions. Whether they are gnolls are not, does not tell us their intentions."

"Bah! Who ever heard of a friendly gnoll?" Dullen roared.

Husk squawked again snapped his beak shut. Dullen dragged Yesper back a pace.

By then, Almah had arrived. "Enough of this," she cut in angrily. "Everyone arm yourselves. Full armour. No exceptions. Dashki, Bree, Santon and Kelestair, I want you in front. Eyes on the torches. Everyone else, check the perimeter for other intruders. This could be a ploy."

Vodrave stepped in front of Almah. "I am resuming my post at your side, Princess."

Almah shook her head, but her red-armoured guards surrounded her.

"We will fulfill our duties." They said as one.

"No. We need everyone to - "

Parn cut her off. "We will take your opinions under advisement, but remind the Princess that we do not actually _serve_ her, we _protect_ her."

"Very well," she spat. "Then we will all stay in the front with the others."

This time it was Fexx who shook his head. "I do not think that is in your best interests, Princess. We advise you to return to your room."

"You will watch your tongue, Fexx. You forget who you speak to."

"I do not, _Princess_. Although you seem to have forgotten who we serve. You will return to your chambers where you are safest or we will bring you there. We will protect you as ordered."

Almah scowled but turned and walked to her room. Apparently the thought of being man handled by her guards didn't appeal to her. Her red-armoured guards followed with Garavel trailing behind.

By now the torches had neared, although Bree still could not make out any features. The four of them strained to see in the dark. Finally, Kelestair spoke.

"They are gnolls. Though they bear arms they do not wield them. Whatever their purpose, they are not here for war."

Beside her, Dashki stiffened. He stepped forward a few paces, sniffed deeply, and them moved forward a few more. "I think I know who this is. I'm going to scout ahead. If it is who I think then I will bring them in to speak with us."

Bree raised an eyebrow. "And if you are wrong? If they mean you harm?"

Dashki shrugged. "Then I will be harmed, won't I? Now cease your fretting, woman. I will return."

Bree scowled at Dashki's back as he walked away, but stayed put. Beside her Kelestair and Santon watched on nervously. The minutes seemed to drag on. Bree found herself holding her breath and let it out awkwardly. Why was waiting always so hard?

Eventually, they spotted Dashki entering the gnolls torch light. He took on a crouching, almost subservient pose and appeared to be talking with them.

"Can you tell what they're saying?" Bree asked aloud, to no one in particular. It was a dumb question, she knew, but found she couldn't help but ask.

No one responded.

The lead gnoll closed in on Dashki. He grabbed him roughly. Bree gasped.

"Broken tankard! We have to help - "

The gnoll backed off of Dashki and he seemed completely fine. Hadn't the gnoll just attacked him?

"They did not fight, Bree," Kelestair whispered. "They embraced."

"Wait! What?"

"They embraced."

"By the gods!" Santon exclaimed. "That was a hug? I thought they were grappling!" He let out a deep laugh. "No wonder our Dashki is so rough!"

Dashki and the gnolls walked together towards the monastery. Dashki seemed to be laughing and practically glowed in their company.

Bree frowned. "I don't understand. Dashki hunts gnolls, doesn't he? Why would he be hugging them?"

Kelestair opened his mouth to speak, but Santon threw his arm around him and slapped him on the back. Kelesteir shut his mouth.

"Well, he's obviously not hunting these ones."

Bree nodded. "Yes, but."

"Quiet." Kelestair said. "They approach."

Dashki and a group of five gnolls were a mere hundred paces away. The gnolls all appeared well armed and battle hardened. Many bore scars and each of them wore a long, curved sword at their hip and a bow slung over their back. None of them had any weapons in hand.

"Do not attack!" Dashki called out to them as he approached.

Bree reached for Tempest, but she kept it sheathed. She had never liked Dashki, but now? Ugh! The man was a fool! Of course they should attack, they were gnolls! Still, Dashki seemed at ease, and both Santon and Kelestair seemed calm enough. There were only five of the gnolls, after all. Bree sighed. Why did things always have to get so complicated?

The gnolls stopped respectfully, twenty paces away. Dashki stepped forward, and beckoned for Santon, Kelestair and Bree to come closer. Bree swallowed down her apprehension and did so, though she let her comrades lead.

"These are not the gnolls from Kelmarane," Dashki announced. "They come with a proposal of peace."

Bree held back a laugh. Peace? Really? Dashki was a fool.

"Speak then, friends." Santon said with a smile.

Dashki beamed and the gnolls sneered. Or was that what a gnoll smile looked like? Bree couldn't be sure.

One of the gnolls, a scruffy and ragged creature larger than the others held his hands up in a sign of peace. This brute was obviously their leader. Bree's fingers twitched slightly, but she resisted the urge to draw steel.

The gnoll barked out a greeting in a feral voice. "Hold your weapons! I am Hargk, and I bring word from Narg, Chieftain of the Three Jaws tribe."

Bree frowned and searched her memory. What was it Dashki had told her about the Three Jaws? "So you are allied with the gnolls of Kelmarane," she said loudly. "Tell me then, Hargk, why shouldn't I introduce you to my blade?"

Hargk let out a yipping kind of laugh and then barked something to his comrades. Dashki and the other gnolls laughed. Kelesteair stiffened.

"That was not very polite," he said aloud. Bree couldn't tell if he was reprimanding her or the gnolls. Perhaps it was both.

Hargk stopped mid-laugh and sneered. He spit on the ground. "You insult us, bitch. The Three Jaws are no allies of the Kulldis. We are enslaved."

Bree scoffed. To think these slavers sought to draw her sympathy out! "I see no chains upon your wrists, gnoll."

"We have long warred with the Kulldis and now the Carrion King forces us to ally with them. It is a disgrace."

"So you are cowed, then. Afraid of disobeying. What well trained pets you are."

"Watch your tongue, woman!" Dashki growled. "The Three Jaws are no pets, or cowards! They are the finest of the gnoll warriors!"

"Now, now," Santon cut in. "Let's all take a deep breath. We can get along. Can't we, Bree?"

Bree frowned but nodded.

Hargk sneered. "We have fought the Kulldis for many years and now they let themselves be ruled by one who is not a gnoll. Their ways disgust us, and we wish to see them swept from the town. Our brother, Dashki, says you mean to kill the Kulldis and so our chieftain sent us to assist you." Hargk paused. "We are here to help," he finished after a moment.

Bree frowned. Hargk obviously did not want to say what he had, nor did he like his mission, but he was not - as far as Bree could tell - lying. Strange.

"We wish to see the Kulldis swept from their town. We will slay their leaders and eat their young together!"

Bree's jaw dropped. Eat their young? These beasts were barbaric! She began to open up her vision, but decided against it. She did not need a gift from her god to tell her these gnolls were evil.

Dashki nodded and slapped one of the gnolls on the back. Santon turned to Bree and Kelestair. He shrugged. Kelestair nodded.

Froth and foam! They were actually thinking of accepting the gnolls offer? Bree shook her head vigorously.

"One moment, if you please, friends," Santon said with a smile. "The lady has her doubts, you see."

Dashki shot Bree a glare and the gnolls shifted nervously. One of them barked something aloud and the others took up a yipping laugh again. The corner's of Kelestair's lips turned down slightly at the corners.

"You cannot be _seriously_ thinking about allying with them, can you?" Bree asked Santon in shock when they were a few steps away.

Santon shrugged. "They were being honest Bree. They want to kill the Kulldis as much as we do."

"The Kulldis, yes, but what of them? They're at least as foul as their brethren!"

"We're weak, Bree. We need all the help we can get."

"No. We cannot ally with _them_."

"They are rather... rough company, but Santon is right. We are few. We could use their aid. They would help us achieve our goals and - "

"No." Bree said again with a shake of her head. "No matter the outcome, we cannot ally with them. In fact, I should kill them now and be done with it."

"Do you hate the gnolls so much?" Kelestair asked. "That you would kill them all?"

Bree frowned. She looked at Kelestair - poor, cursed, Kelestair - and shook her head. "No, Kelesteir. I hate evil so much that I would kill them all. They are foul and no matter what help they would give us, no matter what they could do for us, I will not ally with them. To accept their evil into our fold is to nurture it."

Kelestair didn't seem to react to her words, but Santon sighed. "You really do need to make this difficult, don't you, Bree?"

Bree crossed her arms.

"Fine. We'll turn down their offer, but you'll not kill them on our doorstep. That's bad form."

Bree narrowed her eyes, but nodded. Santon turned and addressed the gnolls.

"Unfortunately, my friends, we will have to turn down your offer. Some of our comrades are rather sensitive on the whole eating young topic. We do, however, recommend you leave the vicinity, as things will certainly get messy come morn."

Dashki's face fell and the gnolls growled. Hargk held up a hand and they fell silent.

They certainly were well trained.

Hargk stared at Bree. "Very well, humans. We will leave you to your deaths. Though my chieftain bids me wish you the best of luck, I look forward to watching the gnolls feast upon your liver."

The other gnolls laughed their hyena-like cackles and retreated, tossing their torches in the dirt nearby and disappearing into the dark. Their laughs rang across the hills.

Dashki watched them go. He turned on Bree and glared. He muttered something in the barking language of the gnolls and spat on the ground at her feet.

"Mind your tongue." Kelestair warned.

"You are fools to take the woman's advice! It will be the death of us."

"Come on," Santon said to Bree. "Best get some rest. We have a busy morning ahead of us."

Bree nodded and turned her back on Dashki. Kelestair followed close behind.

"I will tell the Princess of your treachery!" Dashki yelled. "You've killed us all, bitch!"

Bree frowned.

"Well, he needs a lesson in manners, doesn't he?" Santon quipped.

None of them laughed.

It wasn't long before she was back in her bedroll, but Bree found she couldn't sleep. Doubt had found its way into her thoughts. First she had made them abandon their assault on Kelmarane early, then they had led scouts to the monastery and now she had turned down an offer of aid. Dashki was right. She would get them all killed.

"I'm sorry." she whispered aloud.

Neither Santon nor Kelestair's sleeping forms offered her any comfort. The silence was thick. Oppressive. Bree felt alone. Her thoughts drifted instinctively to Trevvis.

"I'm so sorry." she repeated, though this time she wasn't sure who she was talking to. A single tear traced its way down her cheek.


	49. Chapter 48: Taking Kelmarane

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Forty-eight

Taking Kelmarane

Bree awoke before dawn. Her comrades were gone and she was alone. She slipped out of her bedroll, put on her cleanest pair of pants and blouse and laced on her leather boots. She belted Tempest around her hip and strapped her buckler onto her arm. She walked out of the Shrine without pausing, towards the dining room.

She found Santon and Kelesteir together, huddled at a table, munching on day old bread. In the corner sat Trevvis, slumped over a bench and snoring loudly. A few empty bottles lay scattered about him. He stunk of booze and stale sweat.

Bree furrowed her brow. Trevvis was an enthusiastic drinker, but she had never known him to abuse alcohol. Perhaps it was fear that had driven him to over indulge? Bree frowned but forced herself to ignore him. Now was not the time to worry about Trevvis. Now was the time for action.

Bree strode over to Santon and Kelestair, grabbed a piece of the bread they shared and nodded for the door. "Let's go."

Santon smiled. "Aren't you eager, this morning?"

"We all should be. Now isn't the time for hesitation."

Santon nodded. But Kelestair shook his head.

"Eat something," he said.

Bree held up the bread in her hand. "I will."

The corners of Kelestair's mouth tilted down slightly. "Drink something."

"I'm not thirsty."

"You will be."

"I said I'm not thirsty."

"And I told you to drink something."

"Who says you have the right?"

"If you took care of yourself, I would have no cause to."

"Excuse me?!" Who did he think he was?!

"Whoa, you guys!" Santon cut in with a wave of his arms. "Save the fighting for the enemy."

Bree pursed her lips. Kelestair stared at her deeply for a moment. His eyes lingered upon her face, and then her mouth. Was he staring at her lips?

"You are paler than normal. Your breathing is shallow and your lips are chapped. You have spent much of your time these last few days..." he paused, searching for the right word. "...expending more liquids than you have taken in. You are dehydrated. Once the sun rises you will wilt like a flower." Kelestair raised his red eyes to meet Bree's. She shifted under his gaze, swallowing the insult she had been preparing to hurl at him.

"Eat your bread instead of waving it around, and drink at least a full glass of water. I will procure you some cheese, which you will also eat. Your body needs the fats it contains. When you are finished we will leave together. Not before."

Bree opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. Kelestair was right. She was hungry, thirsty and weak from crying. If she left now her hands would be shaking within the hour.

"You could at least say please."

Kelestair's eyes never left her as she sat at the table beside him. His lips formed a thin line. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. Eventually he rose from the table and left the room.

Bree munched on the bread and poured herself a cup of water from a nearby jug. Kelestair returned with a hunk of cheese, and a handful of dates. He placed them before her on the table, careful not to make contact with her.

"Eat. _Please_."

Bree nodded and smiled. "Gladly."

She loved dates.

* * *

Kelmarane was empty.

Bree frowned as she walked the silent streets. "Where are they?" she asked, for the fifth time. "This place was crawling with gnolls yesterday, and now it's bare."

Santon shrugged. "Perhaps they heard I was coming, and fled."

Bree rolled her eyes.

"Stay alert," Kelestair reprimanded. "Empty streets does not signify an empty town. The enemy could be in any one of these buildings."

Bree shuddered. "An ambush?"

"Perhaps."

Bree tightened her grip on Tempest. A small ball of tension formed in her stomache. She frowned and continued scanning the streets. Truthfully, she found the empty roads terrifying. It gave the whole place an eerie, almost ominous presence. As if the town itself were worse than the gnolls. A shiver ran up her spine.

"Easy," Kelestair said aloud.

His gravelly voice was a balm on her nerves. She relaxed slightly. She was not alone. Kelestair was with her. Santon was with her. Whatever the town, or the gnolls, had planned for them, they could handle together.

They continued along the crumbling streets and alleyways for the better part of the morning, but found not a soul. Eventually, the slopes of Upper Kelmarane came into view. A small pair of towers and a wooden gate blocked access to the town square. Beyond they could see the Battle Market, a domed building in good repair where traders would have gathered in happier times. Voices drifted towards them, carried by the winds.

Bree frowned. So that's where all the gnolls were. "They've holed themselves up in the Battle Market."

Kelestair nodded. "A wise move. It is a defensible location."

Santon smiled. "That's good. Now I won't have to hunt down any stragglers."

Bree smiled. Her thoughts drifted to the battles in her homeland. "Won't they worry about being trapped within? We could set fire to the building, or starve them out. They would have no where to run."

Kelestair shook his head. "The building is all stone and metals. It would take hellfire to set it alight."

He was right. It seemed that most of the buildings in this country were of stone construction.

"And as for a siege? We are too few for tactics of that nature. We could never hold them, let alone outlast them. They likely have some measure of our numbers and know they have nothing to fear."

"So how do we get to them, then?"

Santon laughed. "We go in the front door."

"The front?!" Bree shrieked. "That's madness!"

Kelestair inclined his head slightly. "One step at a time. We must bypass the towers first.

Bree nodded and turned her attention back to the towers and the gate. "But how do we -"

"Oh, let's just go, already!" Santon grumbled, cutting her off. He drew his broadsword, and strode purposefully down the road towards the gate.

"Froth and foam!" He would get himself killed! Beside her, Kelestair stirred. Slowly, he walked down the road after Santon. Bree cursed as she followed him.

Santon stood before the wooden gate and pushed on it with his arm. It swung inward.

Hadn't it been barred? Locked? Anything? Were the gnolls this foolish?

Santon turned back to them and smiled, beaming. "Come on!" He disappeared into the town square.

Kelestair inclined his head. "Be on your guard, Bree. It seems we are invited in."

Bree froze. The empty streets, the unmanned towers, the open gates. Cayden's curse, Kelestair was right... The gnolls had something planned and whatever it was, the dogs wanted them in the Battle Market. This was not good. And Santon was...

"Come," Kelestair ordered. "Before the trap is sprung."

"Santon." Bree gasped. She tightened her grip on Tempest and took off at a run.

The gate was still part open and she slipped through it easily. She scanned the square. It was deserted. She could see no ambush and spot no traps. She cursed. What a dirty glass this was turning out to be!

Across the square Santon walked up to the Battle Market's front doors. Bree sprinted after him, turned the corner and found Santon speaking with a goblin.

He was a strange creature, no more than two feet tall, with green wrinkly skin. His head was squat, but excessively wide and filled with sharp, dagger-like teeth. He had beady red eyes and a round, protruding belly. He wore garishly coloured clothes, a jester's hat and carried a wand covered in jingling bells which he waved about incessantly.

Bree stopped dead in her tracks. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but she was sure it wasn't this.

"Greetings, humans and half-humans!" the goblin said. "Welcome, welcome!" His voice was rough, and high-pitched. It bordered on screeching. He spoke the common tongue perfectly. "I am Jank of the jingles-lots-bells and fancy-clothes, door keeper of Kelmarane!" He waved his wand around, and smiled a toothy grin that split apart his whole face.

Well, he spoke the common tongue _almost_ perfectly.

Goblins were known to be vicious little beasts, slightly smarter than an animal, but very cunning. They ate almost anything, but preferred the flesh of humanoids - while they still lived. Bree suppressed a shudder and opened her eyes to the auras around her. The goblin radiated evil, but faintly. Bree frowned. He couldn't be a little evil. It was impossible! One was either evil, or good. Perhaps he bore something evil upon him, or his actions did not agree with his heart? Or perhaps -

No. Bree pushed all thoughts of the strange little goblin out of her mind. She couldn't let herself be distracted _now_.

"You have been expected!" Jank rasped, waving his wand for emphasis. "The Mouth of the Carrion King seeks an audience with you immediately!"

"Lead the way, Jank," Santon chuckled. "I have cause to meet your master."

Jank frowned slightly, but then smiled widely and nodded vigorously. "Yes! This way, this way!" He gestured at the Battle Market with his wand. "This way!"

Santon laughed again, sheathed his sword and followed the goblin without a second thought. Kelestair followed behind him, eying the structure with hesitation.

Bree screwed her eyes shut and prayed frantically to her god. _Please, my Lord, smile upon me. Don't let it end here._ She breathed deeply once, and then again. Slowly, ever so slowly, she crept over the threshold, and entered the Battle Market of Kelmarane.

Cayden's will be done.


	50. Chapter 49: The Battle Market

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Forty-nine

The Battle Market

Bree passed through the enormous, bronze set of double doors and into the Battle Market. It was a massive, circular building with high ceilings and polished, tile floors. Bree let out a quiet gasp of awe. She hadn't seen a building this grand since she left her father's home in Taldor. Too bad it stunk like dogs and blood.

Before her the stretched long a torchlit passage which opened up into some kind of common room. To her left was a large wooden door, and to her right was a flight of stairs which curved with the contours of the building.

The goblin, Jank, led Santon and Kelestair down the passageway ahead. Santon talked amicably with Jank, seemingly without worry. For his part, Jank seemed thrilled with the attention. Kelestair walked silently behind them, tense and alert. He reminded her of a desert snake, coiled and ready to strike.

Bree eyed the door and stairwell, but decided to follow her comrades. She couldn't leave them to face what lay ahead alone - whatever it was!

She walked down the passageway cautiously. It opened up into a cavernous, circular room. It was well-lit and noisy. Market stalls lined the perimeter of half of the room while a popular looking bar took up another quarter. In the center of the room was a raised stage surrounded by curved benches. Milling about the room was at least thirty people. Most of them were gnolls, but a sizable amount were bugbears or orcs. A good number of humans were in sight as well: merchants, mercenaries and slaves. They paid little attention to her.

Jank led Santon and Kelestair up, onto the stage. Bree followed them. The floor of the stage was wet - slick with blood and gore. She frowned as her mind caught up with her senses.

The room fell silent.

Oh, gods. What had they gotten themselves into?

Jank waved his wand and bowed, breaking the ominous quiet with his ridiculous jingling bells. Bree grimaced at the sound and grit her teeth.

"Attention, Kulldis tribe! Attention Kelmarane!" Jank yelled with a flourish. "Jank of the jingles-lots-bells and fancy-clothes, door keeper of -"

"Enough!" a voice boomed from above.

Jank shrank, and clutched his head with his hands. His legs began to shake in his bell-covered green boots. "Y-y-es, Master! Jank just do as told!"

Bree frowned. Whoever it was had scared the grammar right out of Jank. She looked up to find an elaborate balcony with a trio of thrones. In one sat a large gnoll with a strange looking pair of morningstars attached by a chain. Ugruk, presumably. In another sat Undrella with a sly smile plastered on her hideous face. The traitorous bitch! In the third - the largest of the thrones - sat a massive man at least seven paces tall. He was all rippling muscles and scar tissue. He wore black and bronze metal armour and held a huge axe clutched in his hands. His shaved head bore an elaborate tattoo of a clawed creature with insect-like wings.

"I said enough!" the man bellowed.

Jank nodded and simpered off of the stage.

"I am Kardswann, Mouth of the Carrion King, Chieftain of the Kulldis Tribe and Master of this village. Tell me, what business brings you to Kelmarane?"

Bree opened her eyes to the auras around her and then shut them in pain. The evil in this room was overwhelming! She swooned in place. They needed to get out of here!

"Why you do, Kardswann, my good man!" Santon replied.

The room erupted into murmurs.

Kardswann laughed once, without mirth. The room fell silent. "And now that you have found me, human, what would you do? Speak truthfully, and I might be merciful."

Bree opened her eyes. Kardswann smirked cruelly down at her.

Santon smiled. "I, Santon Synger, of Katapesh, challenge you to a duel to the death for control of the Kulldis!"

Bree's jaw dropped. The fool!

The room erupted into shouts and yips. Kardswann clenched his jaw tightly. Beside him, Undrella patted his arm. She whispered something to him, which made him tense.

"Enough!" he shouted. He threw Undrella's hands off of him. "I tire of your disruption. It is time this battle stage is put to use." He raised both of his arms into the air. "Honoured guests! I offer you five hundred pieces of gold for each of the strangers corpses!"

Bree paled.

A few laughs erupted from the room. Some of the humans and orcs shuffled and made to move, but not a single gnolls stirred.

"You stole leadership by strength of arms, Kardswann. Are you so afraid of me, that you will not defend your claim?"

Kardswann frowned. "I fear no mortal."

"Apparently, you do."

A few yips could be heard from the crowd. One of the gnolls spoke. Then another. Soon there was a chorus of growls and barks. Bree had no idea what the gnolls were saying, but she could tell Kardswann didn't like it.

Ugruk barked down a response at the gnolls, but he was shouted down by the crowd.

"I think the tribe has spoken, Kardswann," Santon said with a crooked grin.

Kardswann rose to his feet. "I accept your challenge, mortal," he replied through clenched teeth. "Though not to the death."

"Afraid to die?" Santon asked.

A cruel smile sliced its way across Kardswann's face. "Another has claim on your souls and your secrets. I count the moments until I introduce you."

Bree's brow creased with worry, but Santon seemed uninterested in Kardswann's claims. Instead, he turned his back on Kardswann and motioned to Bree and Kelestair.

"Are you ready?" he asked calmly.

Bree raised a hand and smacked him in the face. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

Santon felt his red cheek. "It's hard to tell you care."

Bree narrowed her eyes angrily. Was this all a game to him? Did he really think he could take on Kardswann alone?

"You see the woman in the back?" he asked. "Wearing the green robes?"

Bree scanned the room. The woman was a bronze beauty. She wore a scimitar belted at her hip, and watched the stage tensely. No less than eight men circled around her. Her guards, most likely. Bree glared at Santon.

"You're an idiot. Focus on living. You can woo her later."

Santon frowned. "Listen, Bree. If I die, I need you to get her out of here. Whatever it takes. Do you understand?"

Bree furrowed her brow. What did it matter to him if some woman stayed here or not?

"Do you understand?"

Bree nodded. "Yes." She didn't.

"Enough." Kelestair cut in. "He comes."

Santon nodded. Kelestair clapped Santon on the back as if they were old friends.

"Sestorious lesahownem," Kelestair intoned quietly. A slight pulsing came from his hand. Beneath the skin, Santon's veins and muscles bulged.

Bree quirked up an eyebrow.

"Kestral hest moones," Kelestair finished. Another slight pulse came out of his hand and Santon straightened.

"Thanks, Kel."

He turned to Kardswann. As he moved his every muscle rippled. He looked vibrant, strong, healthy, confident - What had Kelestair done to him?

"Bidding your friends goodbye?" Kardswann boomed.

Santon smiled. "Jealous?" he asked.

Kardswann frowned slightly, and growled. Bree and Kelestair backed up off the stage, and into the stands. Bree scanned the crowd for the woman she was supposed to kidnap. She found her halfway across the room, arguing with her guards and gesturing at the stage. She turned and made to walk towards the stage, but one of her guards grabbed her by the arm.

Bree frowned. What was going on?

Behind her she heard Kardswann speak, though all traces of anger had gone from his voice. "We know where the key-holder is," he said. He sounded calm. Almost... emotionless. "We will have them soon. Soon. So soon."

Bree quirked an eyebrow.

"Lucky you," Santon said as he drew his broadsword. "I'm here for a key-holder of my own, you know. But that's neither here, nor there. Are you ready to die?"

Kardswann made no response. He simply stood there. His eyes were voids. Empty. Devoid of consciousness. And then they weren't. They were brown and fierce and angry. Kardswann let out a vicious cry and raised his axe high with both hands. He charged forward, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Santon backed up, a bit surprised, before smiling widely. He dashed forwards, swinging his broadsword. Kardswann twisted his axe, blocking Santon's blow. Santon pressed downwards with his blade. Every muscle in his body flexed and tensed. Kardswann pushed back with his axe. Slowly, impossibly, Santon pushed his sword and the axe closer to Kardswann. Sweat beaded up on Kardswann's brow. Santon smiled.

Gorged on whatever magic Kelestair had pumped into him, Santon seemed invincible. Bree nodded her thanks to Kelestair and then turned back to the crowd to find the woman.

She was ten paces away. Two of her guards held her by the arms while another punched her in the stomach. The woman struggled against them. A third joined in, grabbing her by the arms and hauling her backwards. One of her sleeves ripped off from the force.

Bree gasped.

A large slave brand covered the woman's arm. It was a relatively new brand, no more than a year old. Likely much fresher judging by the fight left in the woman. The woman struggled against her captors, straining to reach the stage. Bree moved forward and then paused, realization dawning upon her. She looked back at the stage where Santon fought Kardswann and then back at the woman.

Cayden's codpiece!

Santon was the spoiled son of a successful merchant. He had left behind a life of luxury, crossed a desert, and signed on for an impossible mission in a long-lost, backwater town. And for what? He had said it was for the promise of future trading contracts and investments, or some such nonsense. Bree had always assumed it involved sex and some kind of scandal. But now, she knew.

It was for _her_. The slave woman. Who was she to him? And more importantly, why did Bree suddenly feel so... betrayed? Left out?

Around her the crowd surged forward. Fur and sweat rubbed against her. Around her. She ignored it. Ignored them. The crowd was gone. There was just the woman. The beautiful, bronzed slave woman, who somehow knew Santon and who was, quite obviously, in a heap of trouble.

Bree sized up her captors. Eight guards, one taskmaster with a whip and other less savory implements strung onto his hips, and one pampered looking merchant they all deferred to. That was ten. Ten men, one slave woman, and Bree. They were not good odds.

Bree sighed. This was one dirty glass. No, this was worse than a dirty glass. This was a celebration with dry kegs! This was... This was...

Bree frowned, gritted her teeth and drew Tempest.

_This_ was the time to take a lesson from Santon and barrel headfirst into an impossible situation without fear of failure.

Bree grabbed her wineskin, took a deep swig and smiled. If there was anything Cayden Cailean would be sure to smile upon her for, it would be saving an attractive looking young woman from slavery.

"Cayden's will be done!"

The first of the guards felt her blade before he saw it. It wasn't until he was on the floor at her feet and she had gutted the second guard that any of the others ever noticed her.

The slave woman, kicked out with her legs at the guard who had punched her. Bree took her opening and sliced him in the arm once and then twice. By then the other guards had regained their senses, and charged her.

Bree cursed. Two down, one wounded. So much for good luck.

The slave woman kicked the wounded guard again in the chest, and then in the face. He stumbled back.

Bree parried a blow from one of the guards, and then another. She tried to keep an eye on the slave woman, but found quickly that she couldn't spare her the attention. Four armed guards slashed at her with falchions and scimitars. Bree dodged, and parried, then ducked and dodged. She waved her scimitar frantically before her, fending them off. She heard strangled cries beside her - the woman? - but couldn't make it out over the din of the crowd.

Bree cursed. This had been a bad idea.

She dodged another blow then angled herself towards the cries. She twisted amongst the crowd, throwing gnolls in the way of blades, hurling glasses and diving over tables. Finally, she spotted the slave woman. Somehow, she had taken down the wounded guard, but another held her arms behind her back while the taskmaster raised a small whip against her stomach. She screamed, and the merchant yelled. Bree gritted her teeth. She dodged another wide slash of a falchion, and then dove over another table. She came up in a roll behind the taskmaster and drove her blade into his back. They tumbled to the ground together in a heap. Bree rolled over. A large blade streaked towards her face - one of the guards!

The slave woman kicked the blade off course, causing it to slice off the toes of another of the guards. He screamed and fell to the floor beside Bree. Bree rolled backwards, onto her feet and sliced the guard holding the slave woman across the arm. He screamed and let go of the woman. In a flash she had her scimitar drawn and was wielding it against the guards. Bree smiled.

Two women. Three healthy guards, two wounded and a merchant.

Perhaps her god was watching over her after all.

Bree drew her blade across the throat of the guard screaming on the ground, and the one who had almost killed her. The slave woman spun, slicing the guard who had held her in the arm once, and then again. Her skirts and veils flew around her in a twister. Bree blinked in awe as the woman spun, and spun, her scimitar whirling about her. Blood was drawn and splattered across the room in an instant as she twirled and danced at her attackers.

Bree skewered another guard in the time it took the slave woman to kill the other three.

The woman, bloody and breathless, looked about her. She turned to Bree, opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Her eyes narrowed. Her lips parted in a silent scream.

"No," the woman whispered.

Bree's stomach turned to stone. She followed the woman's gaze to the stage.

_Oh, gods. No. Please, no._

Kardswann stood over the body of Santon. Blood dripped down his axe. He roared, and the crowd surged forwards in response.

The slave woman screamed.


	51. Chapter 50: Queen of the Kulldis

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Fifty

Queen of the Kulldis

"Santon!" the woman screamed.

Bree stared at the stage dumbly. Santon... dead? Could it...

Was he really... Dead?

Bree stood frozen in shock.

The slave woman pushed her way through the crowd.

The slave woman... Something about the slave woman...

She was supposed to do something for...

Her.

Save her.

For Santon.

Bree's eyes widened.

_Oh, gods._

_No._

Bree came to her senses and dashed off after the slave woman. She reached out an arm and grabbed her.

The slave woman whirled on her and struck her across the face with her palm. "You shouldn't have left him!"

Bree gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on the woman's arm. "He wanted me to save _you_! I promised him!"

"You should have saved _him_!"

"I trusted him!" she shouted. Trusted him? Santon? What was she saying? Had she really trusted him? To do what? To live? Against Kardswann? Bree's thoughts were reeling, but her mouth seemed content without it. "I trusted his judgement! I trusted him to live! And I trusted that you were more important, if he didn't!"

Back on stage, Kardswann yelled. Bree and the slave woman turned to him.

The woman frowned and then yanked her arm from Bree's grip. Bree regarded the angry woman before her and then looked back up to the stage, where Kardswann postured and posed above Santon. Bree gritted her teeth and pushed her way through the crowd.

"I challenge Kardswann of the Kulldis tribe!" she yelled loudly.

The crowd parted before her. She strode purposefully to the stage and ascended the steps. The slave woman followed her.

"No. I challenge Kardswann of the Kulldis tribe!" the woman yelled.

Kardswann smiled. "And so his bitches take the stage?"

Yipping laughter erupted from the crowd.

Bree gritted her teeth and held her blade before her. "Surrender or die."

Kardswann laughed.

Bree lunged forward, slicing sideways with her scimitar. She struck his armour, but slashed again, quickly, for his neck.

He could have dodged. He could have parried. Hell, he could have shrugged and caused her blade to go off course. But, he didn't.

Instead, Kardswann's eyes went blank, and then utterly terrified.

He stood stone still and watched as Bree's scimitar sliced his head clean off.

Bree screamed in triumph and anger and hatred.

The head fell to the stage with a thump and rolled off onto the floor.

It was silent.

Bree watched as a delicate hand - Kelestair's - subtly let go of Kardswann's ankle. Kardswann's body loosened, and then fell to the ground.

Kelestair strode up onto the stage and raised his arms to the crowd. "Kardswann's time is over! Bow down to Bree! Queen of the Kulldis!"

A bark sounded from above. Bree looked up and saw Ugruk yelling down at Kelestair. Kelestair yelled something back. Then Undrella pitched in.

Bree couldn't understand what they were saying. The barks and yips of the gnoll tongue made as little sense to her as a dog's bark or a bird's call. She turned and walked over, slowly, to Santon's body.

The slave woman cradled his head in her lap. His blood pooled around them, turning her green robes to a reddish brown. She sobbed uncontrollably.

Bree stepped forward once, twice. She stopped. Perhaps she should leave his lover to mourn over him... Perhaps she should...

Her eyes left the woman and fell on Santon. He was so pale. So still.

Bree blinked once, and then screwed her eyes shut. She threw herself to the ground beside him without a care for the slave woman. Santon was her friend. Like the brother she had never had. And now he was gone. Bree dropped her head onto his chest and wept in great heaving sobs.

Below her, his chest moved.

Bree raised her head in shock. She placed her hand upon his chest and slowly, weakly, it moved up and then down in a shaking desperate breath.

By the light of the Starstone! Santon was alive!

Bree tore open Santon's shirt, ripped off her buckler and placed her bare hand upon his chest.

"Hey!" the slave woman shrieked. "Get your hands off my brother you dirty - "

"Quiet!" Bree hissed. "Beloved Lord," she prayed loudly. "In your name, please, I beseech you! Save this man, lend him your luck! It is by his guidance I have come to do your will today. Please, please! Save him!"

An overwhelming surge of sensation entered Bree almost immediately. It was so much! Too much! She couldn't hold it all. She couldn't use it all...

No! She would have to! Santon needed it all...

And more!

Bree screamed as the power pulsed from her hands and into Santon's chest. Still, she called on more, opening herself up to the revels of her Lord until she was filled to bursting. A conduit straight to Santon, from the divine. She was a funnel. A vessel. A tool.

She belonged to Cayden Cailean.

She was his.

A favoured soul.

Beneath her hands, Santon shuddered. Bree smiled and let go.

But the voices didn't stop. The liquor of the gods still flowed down her throat. The cheers and the bawdy songs still rang in her ears. The room spun. She raised a hand to her head.

A voice as sweet as honey and smooth as silk sang. He nodded at her and handed her a drink. His voice left the chorus' and he spoke to _her_.

And then the room was spinning. She was stumbling. Letting go. She couldn't hold it. It was too much.

The man with the honeyed voice was speaking. Smiling. Laughing. He was proud of her. His favoured soul. And then he was gone and Bree was vomiting on a bloody stage surrounded by a pack of stinking gnolls.

Beside her, Santon heaved onto the floor. The slave girl patted his back as if she had done it a thousand times before. Bree didn't mind in the least.

Santon was alive and Bree couldn't seem to shake the feeling that she was somehow - _is_ somehow... something _more_. Something treasured.

Through the vomit and tears and bleeding wounds Bree smiled.

And then she heaved her breakfast onto the floor.

A hand clapped her on the back. "Perhaps a bit more practice, Bree."

Dumbly, Bree nodded.

Santon laughed.

After a few moments, Bree rose on her shaking feet.

Ugruk lay dead, upon the stage, his skin horribly rotten and black. Kardswann's headless corpse lay beside him. Kelestair was shouting something to the crowd. The gnolls yipped back in before turning and filing out of the Battle Market.

Bree looked on, confused. "What's going on?" she croaked.

Kelestair turned to her slowly. His eyes glimmered as they never had before. The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. He was happy. Joyous, almost.

"This could not have worked out any better, Bree. And all because of you."

Bree's eyes widened. "I don't understand."

"You saved Santon, you killed Kardswann and you now control a tribe of gnolls."

"I do?"

Kelestair smiled. Actually smiled. "Yes, Bree. You do."

Bree shook her head. "They just left."

"They left to find you tribute."

"Tribute? Kelestair! Why didn't you stop them! Gnolls kill for tribute! And raid and - "

"They go to kill the Dust Digger in your name. The beast that lives in the Pesh fields."

Bree's eyes widened.

"You are their Queen, Bree. And you ascended in quite a memorable manner. They seek to make an offer to you, like no other. And so they hunt the Dust Digger."

"But they'll die."

"Yes, they will. And they might even take the Dust Digger with them."

"But I -"

"They fear you, Bree, and they know you have no love of slavers. They will bring the Dust Digger down to earn your favour and forgiveness, or they will die."

Bree paused. Somewhere along the way the smile had slipped from Kelestair's face. What had happened? Had she upset him? And what had made him so happy?

"Do I anger you so?" Bree asked. Oh, gods! Why had she asked that?

Kelesteir's eyes widened imperceptibly.

"You were so happy a moment ago and I... I just thought, maybe you..."

He tilted the corners of his mouth down slightly.

"I was just so rude to you when we first met, so I understand if you dislike me - "

Kelestair smoothed his clothing out and looked away. "I was relieved to see you and Santon safe," he said in a tight, clipped voice. "Our odds today were not very good, and to see our day end so well, and with no loss of life, I was... pleased. Immensely pleased."

Bree smiled and blushed. "Oh, I'm so sorry to... I didn't mean to put you on the spot or anything, Kelestair! I shouldn't have said anything."

Kelestair regarded her with his red eyes. "It is nothing. I realize I am not the most..." he paused, searching for the right word. "...candid with my feelings. It is a habit I am finding hard to break."

Bree shook her head. "No. There's nothing wrong with keeping your feelings to yourself. I shouldn't pry. Sometimes I just... I act. Recklessly. Without thinking."

Kelestair tilted the corners of his lips up slightly. "So I have noticed. I admit, I thought you as good as dead when you challenged Kardswann."

"Yes, that was foolish, wasn't it?"

Kelesteir nodded. "Thank the gods you are alright."

Bree laughed. "Thank you, you mean!"

The corners of his mouth twitched and then, impossibly, he smiled. Brightly. "Yes. Well. I may have helped."

Bree laughed. "_May_ have?"

"Yes. Well. Did help."

"What did you do to him, anyway?"

Kelestair's mouth returned to its usual stern line. "I blinded him."

"By touching his ankle? You blinded him?"

"Yes. A handy spell."

"I'll say so. Scary, though. I couldn't imagine being blind."

Kelesteir shifted uncomfortably. "Come, my Queen," he said after a moment. "Let us see how your subjects fare."

Bree frowned. "Do we have to?"

"That depends if you trust your subjects to act in your best interests outside of your sight."

Bree paled. "Let's go."


	52. Chapter 51: Cutting the Strings

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Fifty-one

Cutting the Strings

Xulthos seethed.

They had done it!

They had cut down his puppet! On his own territory!

The nerve! The luck!

The...

Wait.

Wait.

This could be salvaged, couldn't it?

They didn't know of _him_. They knew only of his puppet.

Those fools thought they had beheaded the dragon, not cut the marionette's strings.

They thought themselves safe. Triumphant.

Yes, he could feel their exultation. Their jubilation.

The fools.

They would send word to their masters and their masters would come.

_The key-holder_ would come.

Below Kelmarane, Xulthos smiled his insectile smile. He clicked his mandibles and shifted his claws. He rejoiced.

His time was at hand.

He would be free.


	53. Chapter 52: The Fate of Kelmarane

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Fifty-two

The Fate of Kelmarane

It was a massacre. Blood, guts and severed limbs were strewn all over the pesh fields. Three gnoll were left standing - the last of the Kulldis tribe. The Dust Digger was dead.

Bree frowned. She hadn't expected any gnolls to live. What would she do with them now? Frustrated, she opened her eyes to the auras around her. The gnolls radiated evil. Her frown deepened. Should she kill them? Now? Like this?

But they were loyal to her now, weren't they? She was their Queen.

Loyalty? Hah! Even the most loyal of gnolls were double crossing curs! What could she expect from these three? A knife in the back!

Bree frowned. These beasts had chosen to kill and enslave. They deserved to pay for their crimes. In blood. Bree reached for Tempest.

"Do not draw steel on them." a gravelly voice beside her said.

"I have to, Kelestair."

"No, you do not."

"I've looked into their souls. They're evil."

"Then you must teach them virtue. Bring them into the light."

Bree laughed. "I doubt they wish to learn."

The corners of Kelestair's lips turned downwards slightly. "How do you know what they want? You have yet to ask them."

"They can't be trusted."

"Then you must instill loyalty within them."

"And what of the people they've harmed? The children they've eaten? The men sold into slavery? The women who begged for death? They deserve justice."

"The gnolls acted how they were raised to, just as you and I."

"Do not compare me to them! I have strived to make a difference! To become a part of something greater than myself! Something good! To change our world for the better! I have nothing in common with those selfish dogs!"

Kelesteir's eyes narrowed. "You were _taught_ to do good, Bree. As they were _taught_ to enslave. Allow them a chance to be taught something new."

"And what of justice? I should let them go unpunished?"

Kelesteir shook his head. "No. They should be punished, but not with death. Imprison them. Rehabilitate them. Teach them. Let them work to rebuild this town we have fought for."

"And then what? Let them go? So they may stalk the deserts once again, enslaving all they see?"

"I believe in redemption, Bree!" Kelestair's voice was louder now and tense. His eyes flared and he gritted his teeth. He was upset. Very upset. "Without it, what hope have I?"

"You're different, Kelestair."

"Am I?"

Bree opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to stop her.

"No," he said sadly. "You are their Queen now, Bree. And it is you who has won us Kelmarane. But think on this: what kind of town would you build here, that death would be dealt upon your whims? What kind of Queen would that make you? What kind of leader?"

Bree frowned. It would make her a tyrant. But, if the tyrant was working for the good of us all, would she still be a tyrant?

Kelestair sighed. "I had hoped you would take this land and make it a bastion of hope and freedom. A safe haven within the chaos of this country. A bright light for the Dawnflower's kindness to flourish. It seems I misjudged you." He slumped his shoulders and walked away.

Misjudged her? Had he? Was what she was about to do wrong? How could she trust these dogs to change so drastically? And where would she even put them? She had seen no jail in Kelmarane...

"There's some cells in the Battle Market," Santon said softly. "They'll do until we build a jail."

Bree frowned. "You mean until Almah pays someone to build a jail."

Santon laughed. "No. I don't."

Bree turned on him and raised an eyebrow.

"We fought for this land, Bree. You, and I and Kelestair. I have no intention of turning it over to Almah's Pactmasters."

"We did as we were paid to. You're not going to break our contract, are you?"

Santon smiled slyly. "I think some renegotiating is in order."

Bree shook her head.

"Besides," Santon continued. "You're here to end slavery, aren't you? That's why you're after the gnolls."

Slowly, Bree nodded.

"The gnolls are a good start, but they're not the problem. The problem is that in Katapesh, slavery is legal. The Pactmasters consider it an entirely legitimate business."

"I have to start somewhere."

"And why not here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Almah's going to rebuild Kelmarane for the Pactmasters. That means everything you've fought for will amount to nothing. The gnolls will resurface, trade will flow and flesh will be sold. Here. Everywhere. Just as it always has." He paused, and a smile spread across his face. His eyes twinkled mischeviously. "Or, we don't give this land back to Almah. We keep this land, rebuild this town, and place ourselves in charge. You can ban slavery and Kelmarane can be a town of free men."

"Almah would just go back to the Pactmasters and request aid. They'd send a force here and kill us."

Santon raised an eyebrow. "You mean like they sent us? An untrained, ragtag caravan with a handful of decent fighters among the lot?"

"We got the job done."

Santon laughed. "We could hold this town, Bree! We could rebuild it into something wonderful. And the Pactmasters won't take us seriously until it is far too late. They're too confident for that. Besides, I don't think Almah will run to them with her tail between her legs. She'll negotiate with us. Maybe even join us."

"Almah? Why would she do that?"

"She's desperate."

"What?"

"Almah is a Merchant Princess. So, what's she doing personally running an undersupplied caravan in dangerous territory? This mission was practically suicidal. I'm amazed we're alive, let alone her!"

"Maybe the Pactmasters sent her personally."

"The Pactmasters do nothing personally."

"Well, maybe she..."

"She's _desperate_, Bree. She's in trouble, probably because her family has failed the Pactmasters in the past. I believe that this madcap mission is her last chance to redeem herself. She'll negotiate with me as long as we give her enough incentive and the promise of safety."

"Incentive? Like what?"

"I'm thinking I'll offer her the position of mayor. Maybe administrator, or judge."

"Mayor?"

Santon nodded. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, what will you do for this glorious town we're going to build?"

"We?"

Santon smiled. "Technically, it was you who won us the town, Bree. I need you here if this is going to work."

Bree smiled. "Really? And I thought you could do anything!"

Santon laughed. "I didn't say I needed your help, I said I needed you here. You're my temporary figurehead and main bargaining chip."

"I don't know. I've never thought about it."

"You have no idea what you're doing, do you?"

"Not a clue."

"You travelled all the way here, without a plan, and now that you have some territory of your own you don't even know what to do with it?"

"I don't know... I guess I would make a bar, dedicated to Cayden Cailean."

"Of course, you've got to practice your...faith."

"And I'd build a free-house."

"A free-house?"

"A place for refugees, and escaped slaves to come. They would get shelter, food and training in whatever fields they want until they earn enough money to build their own home and make a living on their own. It would be a refuge."

Santon smiled. "That sounds like a good idea. It'll drive you bankrupt, though."

"I don't care about that. And what about you? What would you do here?"

"I've always wanted to be a Sheriff."

Bree burst out laughing.

"What?" Santon asked.

"You? Sheriff?" She laughed again. "Are you serious?"

"Laugh it up, Bree. While you're handing out free food, I'm going to protect this town."

"Rule it, you mean!"

Santon smirked. "Well, my first act as Sheriff will be to lock you up if you keep laughing at my dreams. My second will be to take these gnolls to their cells. Presuming, of course, your Royal Highness can keep her sword sheathed."

Bree frowned. Slowly she nodded. "Let the gnolls live. They can help clean up the town."

"You're doing the right thing, Bree."

"I'm not so sure." She paused, lost in thought, and then shrugged. "I should head back to the monastery and let them know we've won the town."

Santon quirked an eyebrow at her. "You?"

"Of course, why?"

"We don't want to tell them _they've_ won the town, we want to tell them _we've_ won the town. For ourselves."

"And you don't think I can tell them?"

"You wouldn't exactly be my first choice for negotiator. In fact, you wouldn't be my in my top twenty choices for anything that involved speaking. You're a pushover."

Bree pursed her lips together angrily. "Fine."

"See?"

Bree narrowed her eyes.

"Whoa! Keep your sword in it's sheath, Bree!" Santon said with a chuckle. "You just need some practice. Besides, we'll need you here to keep the gnolls in line."

"So what masterful negotiator are you going to send?"

Santon smiled deviously. "Oh, I don't want to negotiate. I want to make a statement. And I think I have just the person in mind."


	54. Chapter 53: A Statement

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Fifty-three

A Statement

Undrella smiled as the wind ruffled her feathers. She soared through the skies with grace, beating her wings without a thought. She yearned to test her limits. To fly up into the blinding white sun. To spiral and bank. To plummet to the earth with abandon. It had been too long since she had flown free. She had surrendered the skies when Kardswann arrived. He had monsters of his own who claimed the clouds. Dark things. Things that even Undrella feared.

Well, perhaps feared wasn't the right word. Respected was more apt, really. Yes, respected. She respected their power. Their ferocity.

She sighed. She had let Kardswann rule for too long.

But, now! Now! Now she was free. Free to soar the skies, chase the stars and bask in the clouds. But now was not the time.

First she had to give the humans reason to let her keep her home. Not all, of course. Just _some_ of the humans. Or, if she was lucky, just one.

Santon. He was the key.

Bree had won the day for the humans, of course. Bree was Queen of the Kulldis - not that there were many of _them_ left - and the one with the most claim on the town. But Bree was a woman of faith - both of which were vexing to Undrella. Bree would not be fooled by her enchanting songs and mind magic. Bree could see her for what she was. Already she was working to oust Undrella from her home.

No. Bree would be of no help to her. Of no use.

Kelestair could be counted on to defend her. The devil-boy had withstood her magic, but he seemed to have a soft spot for redemption and hopeless cases.

But, Santon. Ah, Santon. Rugged, handsome, cunning, powerful, ambitious, weak-willed Santon. Yes. Santon would be her protector.

But first she had to help him into as powerful a position as she could. She had to help him achieve his goals. Then, once Kelmarane was firmly in his grasp, he would become an effective protector indeed. Perhaps he would even provide her with the raw materials for her experiments? What was she saying? Of course he would. He would do whatever she told him and, if he resisted, all she had to do was sing. This was the beginning of magnificent relationship.

Undrella smiled. One thing at a time. One step at a time. First came the monastery. Santon had a message he wanted delivered. A challenge, really. A statement. Undrella's smile spread.

Yes. This was going to be a magnificent relationship, indeed. Even without her mind magic and meddling, she liked the way this man thought! Undrella purred.

Finally, she spied the monastery. It was an old wreck of a building marked by dilapidated stone-work, broken windows, and poorly built wooden doors. Her keen eyes spotted two guards - both human and hopelessly ineffective at hiding. The fools. She checked on the sun's position and flew so that they would see her approaching.

As she drew closer more humans appeared. Some wore armour, some robes, but none of them would prove a problem. She sighed. Not a soul with skill in the lot.

She circled the monastery three times - lazily - both to draw their attention, and to set them on edge. Finally, when she could taste their fear and apprehension one the winds, she dove down to the rocky earth and landed upon her taloned feet with a flourish. She was forty feet from the nearest person - a dirty woman guard with a bow and a scarred face.

"Greetings, humans!" Undrella cried.

The humans tensed. Undrella smiled.

A rich woman surrounded by four red armoured guards - Almah, if Santon's description could be trusted - stepped forward.

"Speak, beast, before my guards use you for target practice."

"Such hospitality," Undrella pouted. "And I thought you humans prided yourself on good manners."

Almah's eyes narrowed slightly. She nodded.

Undrella heard an arrow fly. Her eyes widened. From behind her? Impossible! Had she missed one of the humans? Her instincts overtook her. Birds flew from danger. They would expect her to fly.

She dove to the side. The arrow missed her by a few inches. She smiled. Plenty of room. She hadn't lost her touch. She grabbed onto the large mandible strapped to her back and willed it to take shape as a bow. She drew two arrows, nocked one onto the jagged, bone bow, pulled back its bowstring and let her arrow loose behind her.

A filthy looking man grunted, dropped his bow and clutched his wounded hand. He growled.

Undrella nocked another arrow and fired it at Almah.

Her red armoured guards moved to protect her, but they were too slow. They had expected her to finish off the archers before aiming for their mistress. Undrella smiled. Even if they had guessed her intentions, there were few humans who could move faster than a harpy with purpose.

The arrow tore through Almah's veil and pinned it to the stone behind her.

"What lovely robes you have, Almah, dear." Undrella taunted.

"Hold your fire!" Almah called out. Her voice was steady, but strained. She was afraid.

Undrella soaked it in.

"What is your purpose?" Almah asked.

Undrella walked forward slowly. Purposefully. The female archer didn't flinch or back up. Undrella smiled. She liked that one! The other humans shuffled back and forth, nervous.

"I come to bring you a message from Kelmarane."

"The gnolls have nothing to say that we would like to hear."

"Gnolls, dear? Who said my message came from gnolls?"

Almah stiffened. She was thinking. Plotting. Frantically trying to regain an advantage. She couldn't. Undrella wouldn't let her.

"You think I would let a gnoll tell me what to do, human?" Undrella asked with a cruel tilt of her lip. She forced her will into the mandible and altered its shape into that of a cruel looking mace pierced with dagger-sharp teeth. A few people in the crowd broke into a sweat.

"Of course, not."

"Then why would I deliver a message for them?"

"Who sent you, then?"

"Humans, dear. Humans."

"What humans, harpy? Answer me truthfully. I've had enough of your games."

Undrella smiled. She forced her will into the mandible mace and urged it back into its natural state. It was a mere jawbone in her hands. She replaced it behind her back. "A pity. And here I thought you would like to hear what has befallen your friends."

"I have no cause to believe anything you say, harpy. Why would I want to let you -"

"What has happened to Bree?" a voice called from the crowd. Undrella smiled. The man pushed forward. He was dirty and stank of alcohol. So this was Trevvis. Bree had poor taste in men.

"Do not listen!" Almah shouted.

"What has happened?" the man repeated.

She had their attention. Now was the time. "I bring a message from the rulers of Kelmarane. They bid you visit them in their town. All of you."

"Bid us?" another man called out from the crowd.

Undrella smiled. "I would accept their invitation if I were you."

"I'm n-n-not going back there!" another man stuttered. Undrella recognized him. He had been a prisoner of the gnolls.

"Oh, but Kelmarane is different now, Felliped." Undrella replied.

The stuttering man paled.

"Enough!" the drunk yelled. "What has happened to Bree?"

Undrella smiled innocently. "I just told you, human."

"Your words are empty!"

"You humans," Undrella mused "Miss much." She sighed dramatically. "Very well. Let me say it plainly so that you understand. Bree, Slayer of Kardswann, Queen of the Kulldis Tribe and Ruler of Kelmarane, along with Santon, the devoted Sheriff of Kelmarane and Kelestair, the benevolent soul seeking to bring the Dawnflower's light to the dark souls of this desert," she paused and smiled modestly "Like me - bid you join them in their newly won town of Kelmarane - a place of hope, promise, broken buildings in need of repair and _freedom_. You are welcome to make the trek across the pesh fields and join them."

"It's a trick," someone whispered. "There's a monster in that field."

Undrella smiled. "They killed that, too. Lucky you have such formidable allies to fight your battles for you."

"We won?" a voice murmured from the crowd.

"We did it!"

"Kelmarane is ours."

Undrella's smile turned cold. "When did I say that?"

A hush fell over the crowd.

"When did I say that _you_ had won anything? Your friends have won something, certainly. A whole town of somethings. But you? You have won nothing but safety from the gnolls on the backs of your allies sweat and blood." Undrella paused. "Think on your inaction as you trek across the field to your allies. They killed for you - though why I cannot possibly fathom. Still. It was their wish I send you this message and bid you welcome to Kelmarane. And, after all, what are friends for?"

Murmurs emerged from the crowd.

Undrella sighed. "Well, it's been lovely, dears, but I'd like to return to my home in Kelmarane now. I have a meeting with the _law_, you know. Enjoy your walk."

Undrella turned her back on the humans and launched herself into the sky. She banked leisurely and soared over their heads. "And a word of advice, Almah dear. Don't let your fear get the better of you. The next messenger you order fired upon may not be so forgiving. Or have such good aim."

Almah stared daggers up at her.

Undrella smiled.

Yes. This had worked out perfectly. She had delivered the message on Santon's behalf. Ha! Message? Message was not nearly a strong enough word for what she had delivered. It was a statement. A challenge. An ultimatum. She had delivered the ultimatum on Santon's behalf and Almah had understood it perfectly, all without tarnishing the aspiring Sheriff's name.

Undrella soared through the clouds. A laugh escaped her lips. Santon was right. This _had_ been fun. Perhaps in the future she would spend more time toying with her humans before she ate them.


	55. Chapter 54: An Offer

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Fifty-four

An Offer

Almah eyes widened in outrage. "Absolutely not! I would bring shame to my family name if I accepted such an offer! I would be dead to them!"

"That can be arranged," Undrella muttered from behind Santon. He held a hand up to silence her.

Almah was exaggerating, of course, as any merchant would. Still, Santon had to play this carefully. He didn't just need Almah to agree to his demands, he needed her to be happy she had agreed. This deal could not turn sour. He needed her. She would bring a sense of legitimacy to their town.

"Be nice, Undrella." Santon scolded with a slight tilt of his lip. He smiled bashfully at Almah, leaned forward and then whispered. "What can I say? She's protective of my interests." Santon sat back up. "It's a good offer, Almah. You should think about it."

Almah frowned deeply, as if she were extremely upset - which she wasn't. Not really. She was shocked more than anything. Shocked that it had come down to this and, most of all, shocked that she had so _tremendously_ underestimated Santon. Inside, Santon grinned. Everyone underestimated him. That - and his boyish good looks - were his greatest weapons.

"It's a horrible offer with horrible connotations! Surely, you realize you are asking me to become a traitor to our great nation."

"Traitor?" Santon asked with concern. He widened his big brown eyes and opened his mouth into a perfect 'o' of shock. "I imply no such thing, Princess Roveshki. A woman of your standing would have no chance of submitting to such weakness! Surely, though, you can see the benefit of aligning yourself with Kelmarane."

"Align with Kelmarane over Katapesh?"

"You imply that we are against Katapesh. We are not! We are but a humble town, hoping to inch its way to stability in these hostile lands. You would be a great asset to us in that endeavor."

"Your laws would not be those of Katapesh."

Santon nodded and put on his sad face. "Alas," he said solemnly. "With the large gnoll population in the region, I'm afraid that by keeping all of Katapesh's laws we would be enslaved within a months time."

"You are in Katapesh, Santon. The laws cannot change on your whims."

Inwardly, Santon smiled. She was beginning to lose her bearings. She was no longer negotiating behind her facades and lies. She was making excuses for herself. It had finally gotten personal. Santon placed on his best serious face.

"Can't they?" he asked.

Santon leaned forward and spoke softer. "And more important to you, Princess. Who says they can't change on _your_ whims, as well?"

Almah was silent for a moment. Stunned. "The Pactmasters own all that is around you. You bargain with things you do not possess a right to."

Santon smiled the most confident smile he had in his arsenal. "Really?"

Almah shook her head. "They are powerful, Santon. More powerful than you can imagine and - "

"More interested in trade than anything else. Which we won't hamper in the least."

Almah shook her head.

Perfect. This was the time. He would throw all his cards on the table now. Well, not _all_ of them. He never used them all. But a good deal of them. He would be honest.

Santon leaned forward. "Let me be frank with you, Almah."

She raised an eyebrow.

Santon smiled and nodded. "Yes, honestly. Let's cut the crap. Let's leave the pretty words and flowery speeches behind."

Almah looked dumbfounded.

"You hired us as guards. Not as warriors. Not as a strike force. Not as soldiers. Guards. And caravan guards, at that! It was not in our contract to take this town on your behalf. Now, I'm guessing you hadn't intended for us to go for you, but for your guards to go and take the town. But, they didn't. Did they? They refused because they're not your guards, but the Pactmaster's guards. You hold no sway over them."

Almah pursed her lips and frowned.

"Also, you knew when you asked us to take the town that you should have renegotiated with us. You should have made it all nice and legal. Binding. But, you didn't. You were worried, weren't you? Distracted."

"I was - " Almah began.

"Wait. Let me finish," Santon cut in. "Honestly, Almah, I know that the Roveshki's haven't had the greatest of luck these past few generations. Your family used to control Kelmarane, didn't they? But they lost it and every attempt to reclaim it has failed. Hasn't it?"

Almah glared daggers at Santon. "Yes."

"Couple that with the fact that they sent you along with four guards loyal to _them_, not to you, left you undersupplied, and understaffed and that you embarked on this quite obviously suicidal mission in the first place and I'm certain that not only is your family having a rough time keeping their reputation in tact, but that this is your last chance to redeem them. To redeem yourself."

"The Pactmasters will send men to take this land from you," Almah spat angrily.

Santon shook his head. "No, Almah, they won't. For two reasons. First: they gave this land up as lost a long time ago. They wasted way too many resources trying to reclaim it. It wasn't good for their coffers, and so they let it go. And second: you're not going to tell them its lost."

"And why would I do that?"

"I imagine that whatever punishment they will pass down upon you for losing control of the town to your own employees would be well worth avoiding. Which is exactly why you're not going to go back to Katapesh and why you're not going to report your failure. You're better off staying here and taking the deal."

"Who says I will lose this town to you?"

"I do and you do."

"I do not."

"I thought we were cutting out the lies, Almah. If you thought you could take us out, you would have. But you can't. Kelestair will fight at my side, as will Undrella and Bree. And once Bree joins us," Santon smiled. "Well, then I have a few gnolls, Felliped and Trevvis on my side. Once Trevvis is on my side I get the whole lot of them. All you've got is your bosses guards and Garavel."

"Garavel is enough to get revenge on you, at least!"

Santon smiled. "I'm sure he was, but I think we both know he's not operating at his best right now, is he?"

"This isn't a negotiation, Santon. This is intimidation."

Santon shook his head. "It's neither." He paused and put on his best serious face. "Earlier I said you could be the Head Judge and Arbiter of Kelmarane, but we both know that was just the opening bid. Quite honestly, this is my town now and I don't want to waste my time bickering with you when I have a lot of rebuilding to do. So, I'm going to make you one offer. You're going to accept it, or you're not. There is no bartering or arguing. Take it, or leave it. Although, we both know, if you leave it and return to Katapesh with another failure under your belt the Pactmasters will find a more profitable use for you, which I doubt you will enjoy. Are you ready for the offer?"

Slowly, Almah nodded.

"You get to be Mayor in both name and duties. You get the Mayor's mansion, up on the hill, and will have a huge hand in the rebuilding and lawmaking process. We'll tote your name as one of the leading forces in taking this town. You'll be a hero. As Mayor you may also lend your opinion to the appointment of other bureaucratic posts. You will be the driving force behind our industry, commerce, and choose where to spend the town's money. You will run Kelmarane. You will have power. Real power. You will be up for election after a five year term, but I'm sure you will have no problem keeping your seat."

He paused. "You will not get to exercise your power over myself, Kelestair, Bree, or anyone else I deem untouchable. They will be punished for overstepping their bounds and breaking the laws, of course, but by me. I'd like some power of my own, you see. That being said, we will play fairly and none of us - or a pawn of ours - will ever challenge you for your seat as Mayor. Citizens would have the right to, of course. This would be a democracy, after all. Bree's very set on that. Lastly, you will turn over the key to the crypts of the old church immediately, so that we can destroy the beast that lairs there and ensure Kelmarane is truly safe before we begin bringing in refugees."

Almah paled and her jaw dropped. "How do you know about the key?"

Santon smiled. "Undrella has keen ears and a sharp mind, Almah. She learned of the key from Kardswann and has been aware of the presence below the church for many years."

"I... What about my men? They won't agree to this and you cannot harm them."

"I think you know how persuasive I can be, Almah. I won't have a problem with your guards."

"You won't convince Garavel. You _can't_."

Santon nodded. "I've seen the bolts in his neck. I know what they mean."

"The you know he has the Pactmaster's Favour. You cannot convince him to go against their edicts. He cannot be convinced."

"Kelestair can remove it."

Almah shook her head. "He accepted the gift of his own accord. You cannot - "

"It's _not_ a gift, Almah! It's servitude. Mindless servitude which I can only assume he accepted because it was his only way the Pactmasters would allow him to journey with you."

Almah froze.

"I guarantee you, he will want them removed."

Slowly, Almah nodded. "I accept your terms, under the assumption that you do no harm to my men, and survive the crypts of the church."

Santon smiled and held out his hand. "We have a deal then."

Almah reached out and shook his hand.

"I'll have Kelestair write up the terms of our agreement later. He's a big fan of contracts, you know."

"Yes. I hear most Chelaxians are. It comes from their close association with devils."

Santon laughed. "It's the only way to survive with devils, you mean." Santon turned his head slightly. "Undrella, dear," he called over his shoulder. "Bring in Kelestair and Garavel, would you?"

"Of course, my pet," she purred.

Her voice was musical. Enchanting. Addicting. Santon smiled.

"She has her claws in you quite deep," Almah whispered.

Santon smiled. "You have no idea."

After a moment Garavel and Kelestair entered the room. Undrella followed behind.

"Ready, Kel?"

Kelestair nodded once. "Of course."

"Hold him, Undrella," Santon said.

Undrella slammed Garavel into the nearby wall and pinned him against it. He barely struggled. Behind her, Kelestair began removing a few tools from a bag at his side. They looked like doctors tools, but they had strange writing carved into them. Magically enhanced? Honestly, Santon didn't know, and didn't care. If Kel said he'd get the job done, he would.

"Release me immediately." Garavel said slowly. His voice was monotone. Emotionless. It was an effect of the bolts on his neck. They dampened the emotions and tied his will to that of the Pactmasters. Santon shuddered. He had tasted slavery and it had driven him to some pretty extreme lengths. But, what would it be like to have your very mind enslaved within your own body? He couldn't imagine. And Garavel had been living with it for months.

Kelestair dropped a single bolt to the floor. Santon stood up and walked closer. He gestured for Almah, who followed close behind.

A second bolt dropped to the floor. Kelestair removed a fluid, some gauze and bandages from his bag and treated Garavel's neck. Finally he stepped out of the way.

"You are welcome," he said softly to Garavel, before turning to leave. "Let him down."

Undrella nodded and let Garavel go.

"Garavel, my friend?" Almah asked.

Garavel dashed forward as fast as lightning, grabbed Almah around the waist, dipped her low to the ground and kissed her deeply upon the lips.

Santon raised an eyebrow. "I knew you were in there somewhere, Garavel!"

In one fluid motion Garavel returned Almah to her feet and whirled on Santon.

Santon held out his hand.

Garavel ignored it and punched him squarely in the jaw. Santon fell onto his back on the floor with a thud. Undrella darted forward, but Santon stopped her with a wave and a deep laugh. He smiled up at a very angry Garavel.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," he chuckled.

Garavel frowned and then slowly - ever so slowly - he smiled.

He offered Santon his hand.


	56. Chapter 55: The Forgotten Priest

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Fifty-five

The Forgotten Priest

Bree frowned. It was blistering hot out with not even the slightest of breezes and they were standing around in a graveyard, talking.

Ugh! If there was one thing she could change about the people of Katapesh - other than their greediness, forked-tongues and - well... One of the things she would change about the people of Katapesh was their love of long, repetitive, boring conversations. Where else on Golarion did it take ten minutes and thirty different ways of beating around the bush before handing over a key?

"About twenty years ago, Kelmarane's priests of Sarenrae fell under the sway of something... _foul_ from the Great Beyond. The creature took control of the high priest and eventually turned the people of Kelmarane to madness," Almah continued.

Bree sighed and looked around the graveyard again. It was located on a cliffside overlooking the fields west of Kelmarane. The view was breathtaking - or would have been if the fields were anything other than hard-packed dirt. Columned arches marked the boundaries of the graveyard and red gravestones covered the whole of it in neat circles.

In the center was a marvelous statue of the Goddess Sarenrae upon a ten foot tall pedestal. Her arms were raised to the heavens and Bree could imagine her face was triumphant. Joyful. In the statues shadow were five prominent gravestones, each with a life-sized statue of a holy warrior above it. They were weathered and extremely old.

Sweat dripped down Bree's face in rivulets. Froth and foam! Was it ever hot! Why was this taking so long?

"Soldiers of the Pactmasters pacified the town and left it in ruin, but they were never able to root out the evil, and instead locked it in the crypt beneath the village church."

Almah was certainly dragging this out longer than normal. That woman was driving her crazy! Still, Almah _had_ agreed to let them keep the town and to put the rest of her funds into the rebuilding effort, which meant she wasn't all bad.

"Now, after all these years, that evil must have waned, and you should be able to defeat it once and for all."

Plus, Almah was putting an awful lot of faith in them. Handing over this special key thing must be hard on her. She must trust them. Or trust them to get the job done, at least.

"I've been provided with the interdict key that will get you through the seal. With the final defeat of the fiend within, Kelmarane will truly be free."

Almah reached out and - Finally! Miraculously! - handed it over to Santon. It looked like a circular disk with a handle on one side and a series of grooves and needles on the other.

Yes! They were finally getting out of this blasted heat! Bree nearly swooned with joy.

"Thank you, Princess, for the trust that you place in us," Santon said seriously. "We will defeat this beast and free Kelmarane on your behalf."

Almah nodded. "My thanks. To all of you."

Bree turned and stalked towards the ruined church without a word. Propriety be damned! She was long past the point of caring.

The outer walls of the church all seemed to be standing although there were no doors upon the entryways and no glass in any of the windows. Bree frowned. The place looked so forlorn. Would she ever find any holy sights unblemished in this country? She entered through the nearest empty doorway and then paused. Her frown deepened. She sighed and drew Tempest. A familiar tingle ran through her arm as the mould crept its way up to her elbow. Her body cooled. The heat no longer bothered her. Her surroundings still did.

Kelestair entered behind her, followed closely by Santon.

All of the interior walls were demolished and gutted. Skeletons littered the floor. About a dozen were wearing the red-chitin armour of the Pactmaster Guard, but the rest appeared to be clerics of Sarenrae or common townsfolk. Ash and fire mared the walls and ceiling. Signs of violence and battle were everywhere.

"May the light of the Dawnflower shine upon this place once more," Kelestair prayed softly.

"There." Santon pointed at the far back corner of the church. "I see a stairwell."

Bree nodded and followed Santon across the room, careful not to step upon the bones of the fallen. "Lead the way."

The stairs were cast in a shadowy, red glow. It was eerie. Ominous, almost. They crept down the short, curving stairwell one by one. Bree gasped when she reached the bottom.

It led to a small hallway, no more than fifteen feet long, and ended in a heavily barred door. It had a prominent metal disk upon its surface which was covered in a red, glowing series of irregular grooves and holes. Before the door stood a dark-skinned man with thick black hair. He was middle-aged and handsome, but wore threadbare, red robes covered in soot. The holy symbol of Sarenrae was draped around his neck.

The man looked up at them kindly. He seemed surprised to see them.

"How..?" Bree mumbled.

"Welcome..." the man said slowly.

"Well," said Santon, "You're a lucky old man, aren't you?"

Kelestair readied his mace. "This is not a man."

The cleric turned to face Kelestair. His facial features melted away in an instant, leaving behind a hideous skeletal face. Deep gouges appeared in his holy symbol.

Bree shrieked. Santon roared. Kelestair didn't seem surprised.

"Welcome to my church!" the skeleton cleric cackled. "Your souls will feed the greatest heroes of Kelmarane!" He lurched forward with unholy speed, swinging his filthy looking claws at Santon.

Santon backed up and threw his broadsword up in front of him awkwardly. There wasn't much room in this hallway. Bree moved forward, but Kelestair pushed her gently out of the way. He spoke angrily at the undead creature before them.

"Face me, you unholy abomination! You blight upon the land!"

The creature paused briefly in his assault on Santon and turned to Kelestair. Santon dashed backwards and Kelestair pushed past him, switching places.

"You, who twisted the word of the Dawnflower!"

The cleric shrieked in wordless anger and leapt at Kelestair.

Kelesteir spoke loudly in his gravelly voice, pronouncing his arcane words with precision. The creature clawed and scratched at him, but, though he didn't move, Kelestair swatted the clerics claws off course enough to keep himself safe.

"Pliyestell vassex nihil!" Kelesteir finished. He reached out his hand and touched the walking corpse upon its forehead. A burst of grey energy poured from his hand into the creature. It wailed in pain and tried to shrink from Kelesteir's grasp, but could not escape. Still, the energy flowed forth.

With a burst and a strange sucking sound the energy left Kelesteir's hand and plunged itself deeper into the skeleton. It stilled for a moment and then howled once more before exploding in a cloud of ash and bone.

Bree threw her arms up over her head, shielding her eyes. She held her breath, but ran out before the remains of the corpse had settled. She gasped for air, but then choked and began to cough. It tasted so foul!

Kelesteir lowered his hand.

Santon clapped him soundly on the back. "Well done, Kel."

"I have had much experience dealing with undead."

Bree's coughing subsided. "I didn't know you could channel the divine power of Sarenrae," she croaked.

The corner's of Kelesteir's mouth turned up slightly at the edges. "I regret that I cannot."

Bree frowned. "I thought only holy energy could destroy the dead so effectively."

"As I said, I have interacted with them much in the past. And, though the undead, if well controlled, can have their..." he paused, searching for the right word. "Uses, I thought it prudent to learn to destroy them as well. It took much study, but I have found it a useful spell."

Uses? What possible uses could an undead have that he wouldn't want to destroy them? Bree shrugged.

Kelesteir's lips returned to a thin line. "Come. Insert the interdict key into the metal plate."

Santon nodded. "I'm bored of this place already."

Bree frowned. Now wasn't the time for levity. Something from the Great Beyond lurked behind these doors. Something evil. Was is a demon of the Abyss? A devil from Hell? A daemon from Abbadon? Bree tightened her grip on Tempest.

Softly, she prayed. _Grant me your luck, my Lord. I'm going to need it..._

A calm washed over her. A sudden sense of certainty. Of confidence. Of faith.

Whatever lurked behind this door, they could face it. They could do this. Together.

Bree smiled grimly. Cayden's will be done.


	57. Chapter 56: The Crypt of Kelmarane

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Fifty-six

The Crypt of Kelmarane

Santon pressed the key into the metal plate, covering up the glowing lines and grooves. It glowed brightly in his hand for a moment and then fused onto the door. The glowing stopped. Santon removed the bars from the door and pushed. The door swung open with a 'whoosh' and a shifting of the air about them. It smelt stale and musty, but of nothing else.

Beyond the door were more stairs and darkness. Tempest let off a soft blue glow, but not enough to act as a light source. They listened together for a moment, at the top of the stairs, but heard nothing over each others breathing.

"The way looks clear," Kelesteir stated.

"I can't see a thing," Santon complained.

"Neither can I," Bree added.

Behind her, Husk squawked loudly.

Bree frowned. She wasn't sure she liked that bird.

She heard a grating sound and saw a spark fly. Santon was lighting a torch. She heard the sound again - flint against steel - and saw more sparks. This time the torch flickered to life.

"I'll carry it," Bree offered, holding out her buckler arm. "You'll need both of your hands to swing that sword of yours.

Santon nodded and handed it to her. "You can carry _my_ torch anytime."

Bree rolled her eyes. That was more pathetic than suggestive. Santon must be nervous. Perhaps Almah had told him more of what they would face in here than she had told to her? They did have a pretty long meeting together the other day. Or perhaps he was still shaken from the cleric's corpse?

Bree moved to the front of the line and walked down the stairs. It led to a large, oval shaped room. In the center stood a ten foot wide circle of mortared stones - like a rather large well. Next to the well, on a small pedestal, was a bronze gong. A short stick capped with a round pad of mouldering leather dangled from a cord attached to the gong's platform.

Bree peered into the well, but found it empty. It ended in solid stone. Curious.

The gong was emblazoned with an image of a flaming sun. Across the room she found a solid stone door. Santon came up behind her and pushed against the door. It didn't budge.

He kicked it, and then cursed in pain.

Bree shook her head.

"Here," Kelestair motioned at the gong. "It is some kind of key."

"A key?" Bree asked.

"Looks like an instrument to me." Santon teased.

"Old magic is clings to it heavily. I believe it will open the way ahead, but that it will also summon a guardian bound here by the Priesthood."

"Guardian?" Santon asked at the same time as Bree spat the word "Bound!"

"Yes," Kelesteir stated, apparently answering them both at once. He clutched the mallet gently in his delicate hand. He raised it high and then struck the gong once. It rang clearly, echoing around the room. Husk squawked angrily in response.

Bree heard the sound of stone grinding against stone from both the doorway and the well. They waited a moment and then two.

A gout of pinkish, whirling smoke spiraled out of the gong. Kelesteir backed up with Husk, allowing Santon to stand in front.

The smoke grew and grew, and then burst into flame. The fire crackled, split in two, and then both fireballs shifted and morphed, taking on the shapes of angels.

Santon held his sword ready, although why he thought the fire would be hurt by a sword, Bree wasn't entirely sure.

The angel shaped flames flickered forward and flailed their arms at Santon. He raised his sword to block, but the flames tore right through the sword and searing into his flesh.

Santon screamed and staggered back.

Bree smelt burnt hair but, thankfully, nothing else.

One of the fire angels reached out for Santon, who dove out of the way this time. The other reached for Bree.

Bree cursed and swung at it. To her surprise, Tempest flashed with light and tore a blue line across the flames. The frost sizzled as it hit the creature, turning it to steam in an instant. Tempest had never been this cold before! She swung again, slicing another freezing line across the flames. The fire retreated slightly, but beside her she heard the other closing in on Santon.

"I'm being cornered!"

Bree glanced behind her, but the flames chose that moment to leap forward. She slashed wildly.

Finally, Kelesteir moved. He strode to the center of the room and held his holy symbol of Sarenrae in the air. "I am of the Dawnflower's church!" He announced confidently. "You have done your duty, but now you must allow the faithful of Sarenrae and his guests to pass freely."

The fire angels flickered, dimmed and then went out in a puff of smoke.

Kelesteir tucked his holy symbol back into his shirt.

Santon sighed in relief. "You're a life saver, Kel."

The corners of Kelesteir's lips turned up slightly. "Yes, well..."

Bree smiled.

Santon turned and peered down into the well. He whistled appreciatively. "Some key."

"Let us proceed through the doorway first," Kelesteir instructed. "We might not need to descend the well."

Bree nodded. She liked that idea. She raised her torch and walked through the doorway.

It led to a long series of crypts. Most of them appeared full and - although they had already faced some undead creatures - the crypts had a strange tranquility about them. These dead rested peacefully. They would not rise to harm them. Bree marched confidently down the hallways until the room opened up into a reliquary. Religious objects and jewels glittered in urns and vases. Santon examined some of them with hungry eyes, but he didn't touch anything. Finding no further doorways or secrets the trio backtracked to the well.

Bree raised her torch above it and peered down. It was around forty feet to the bottom.

"I don't suppose you've got a spell to get us down there, Kel?"

Kelestair shook his head. "Regrettably, I know no spells of that nature."

Santon nodded and took off a bag slung over his back. Bree brought the torch closer. Santon dug through the bag for a minute or so, before finally pulling out a rope. He looped it around the nearby stone pedestal and tugged on it hard. It looked sound enough. Santon threw the other end of the rope over the well and then took the torch from Bree.

"Ladies first."

Bree frowned, but took hold of the rope and slowly lowered herself down.

It took only a minute, but Bree reached the ground without trouble. It was more scary than difficult. The flickering torchlight made it difficult to see and when she did reach the ground she could see nothing of her surroundings. She waited nervously in the dark for Kelestair to descend. Husk perched upon his horns for the trip. The vulture was either too lazy to fly, or didn't have enough room.

"Toss down the torch!" she called up after Kelestair had reached the ground.

Santon shook his head and smiled. "No need." He climbed up onto the ledge and then jumped off, into the well. Feathers sprouted below him, cushioning his fall, until he landed softly on the ground beside them.

Bree frowned.

Santon smiled. "You should have kept the ring."

Kelesteir quirked an eyebrow up slightly.

Santon handed the torch back to Bree.

They were in a smaller oval shaped room which continued off ahead in a wide hallway as far as the could see. The followed it, but found a portcullis barring their way. It was old, heavy, and stuck.

"Froth and foam."

Santon pushed against the gate, and then tried pulling it up. He frowned.

Kelstair stepped forward and placed a hand on Santon's shoulder. "Sestorious lesahownem."

Santon's muscles bulged and rippled. He flexed once and then shook his shoulders. He reached down and tried pulling up on the portcullis. It gave, but slowly, inching its way upwards with a groan. "You know," Santon grunted as he lifted. "I almost died last time you cast that spell on me."

"It was no fault of mine, nor of the spell."

"I'm sure Cayden Cailean will watch over you, Santon. You won't meet such an ugly fate today."

Bree slipped under the portcullis, followed by Husk and Kelestair. After another moment Santon had raised the gate over his head. He stepped forwards and let the gate shut behind him.

The hallway turned out to be lined with more burial niches.

A slight chill ran up Bree's spine. These crypts certainly didn't share the tranquility of those above. Slowly, the chill turned into a palpable foreboding. It was as if they walked through clouds of fear.

"We are close," Kelestair stated.

Bree nodded. She could tell.

They turned a bend and saw a stone doorway at the end of the hall. A scraping came from one of the burial niches nearby. Bree jumped back, wary of more moving corpses.

The finger bones on a nearby skeleton twitched. Then the a jaw on another. Bree held Tempest out before her. None of the corpses made any move to get out of their niches. They simply lay there in their rotting funeral garb, twitching.

"It is some kind of necromantic echo."

"You mean they're not undead?" Santon asked.

"No. But whatever lies beyond the door - this Xulthos - he seems to be giving off enough... corruption to cause the dead to stir."

Bree frowned. Was that a hint of awe she had heard in his voice? "You mean Xulthos is corrupting the dead?"

"No. Some of the dead - likely the most pious of them - are stirred to action by the corruption. They are reacting to it from beyond the grave and trying to send themselves back." The corners of Kelestair's mouth tilted up at the corners.

"Wait." Bree gasped. "They're trying to will their bodies into undeath to fight the corruption?"

Kelestair nodded. "Yes."

Bree was stunned.

"I told you undead can have their uses."

"Can they help us?" Bree blurted.

Kelestair's smile disappeared. "They will not win out over death. They have been gone for far to long."

"So we're alone, then?" Santon asked.

Kelestair nodded.

They walked down the hallway and up to the last door. The surrounding feelings of fear had become thicker. Heavier. Bree's hands shook.

"Prepare yourselves," Kelestair reminded them. "Xulthos is beyond."

Bree willed her quivering arms to still. How could Kelestair be so calm? She handed the torch to him. He took it with little more than a raised eyebrow. For once, Husk was silent. Apparently he was too scared to complain.

Bree lifted the wineskin from her side and raised it to the roof. "This is it, my Lord. Lend us your luck. Lend us your vigour. Most of all, lend us your courage. We're going to need it. Cayden's will be done." Bree raised the wineskin to her lips and took a deep drink. Her hands ceased their shaking. Her body warmed up slightly, chasing away the chill of the stone tunnels. Bree smiled and then offered the wineskin to her comrades. "A little liquid courage?"

Santon practically grabbed the wineskin from her and took three deep gulps.

Kelestair declined. "I need my wits about me."

Bree nodded and took her wineskin back from Santon. She grabbed the torch from Kelestair and turned to the door.

"Ladies first?" Santon asked with a shaky smile. He was nervous and obviously afraid.

Bree frowned. Santon was never afraid. What had come over him? Apprehension crept into her thoughts. She waited for a breath or two, trying to shrug it off, but the longer she waited the more Santon fidgeted beside her.

Oh, gods. What had they gotten themselves into?

Kelesteir reached for the handle on the door and gripped it tightly. He pushed on it and the door swung open.

A strange, droning, buzz sounded from within the room. Bree felt a wave of absolute terror race through her. Beside her, Santon dropped his sword. It clattered to the ground with a discordant clang. Then he turned and ran.

Bree tightened her grip on Tempest and grit her teeth.

Almah was wrong. Xulthos was _not_ weak. Xulthos was strong. Xulthos was angry. Xulthos was _terrifying_.

They shouldn't have come.


	58. Chapter 57: Xulthos

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Fifty-seven

Xulthos

Bree shifted her weight slightly. Her copper tankard banged against her hip. He was here. Her lord, Cayden Cailean was with her. He was always with her. He _was_ here.

Bree swallowed her fear and raised Tempest high. She stepped into the darkness beyond with Kelestair close on her heels.

The room looked nothing like the hallway they had been in. It was more of a cavern than anything. A vast, looming cavern. The air was damp, cool and moist. Writhing roots hung down from the ceiling. At the far end of the cavern was a jagged stone thrust up from the earth around it. Standing upon the platform, was Kardswann.

Bree's eyes widened. "I killed you."

Kardswann chuckled. It was a dry, inhuman sound. "Many years have I languished in this foul place, trapped here by the wards set by your Pactmasters." His voice was a croaking rasp which sounded nothing like it had the last time they had spoken. "Endless decades have I endured the whispering spirits of the wholesome dead, cursing my captors, hating the world I could no longer corrupt."

A chill went up Bree's spine. This was not Kardswann. This was Xulthos. This was much, _much_ worse.

"When the Templar came he walked through the walls and the red-men's seal remained intact. But you have broken the seal and my long captivity is finally at an end. Before I go I will kill one of you so brutally that the other willingly allows himself to be my slave."

Xulthos-Kardswann stepped forward, off of his stone stage and onto the cavern floor. "Which one of you, I wonder, shall that be?"

Kelestair placed his hand upon Bree's shoulder and began to chant softly.

"You will have neither of us, Xulthos!" Bree cried. "Our gods will protect us from your corruption!" A slight pulse went through her body and she felt stronger.

Xulthos-Kardswann laughed.

Another pulse and this time she felt tougher.

"Today you find not your freedom, but your death!" she yelled.

Kelestair removed his hand and pointed at Xulthos-Kardswann. "Enfabastious vesral!" A sickly looking ray sprung from his hand and struck Xulthos-Kardswann in the chest.

The fiend's form wavered and then shifted. Kardswann disappeared. In his place was an immense, six legged, insect-like monster with huge claws and a long, serpentine tail tipped with chitinous blades. It had multi-faceted eyes, slavering mandibles and nearly transparent wings upon its back. The torch-light reflected off of its carapace in a dazzling display.

_This_ was Xulthos.

"Enfabastious vesral!" Kelesteir shouted again, causing Xulthos to shrink upon himself slightly.

The fiend's wings flapped quickly causing another bout of fear to strike Bree, but she shrugged it off easily this time. She would _not_ run. She would fight. She splashed through a reeking puddle of fluids and slashed sideways at Xulthos with a scream upon her lips.

Xulthos shifted his weight slightly. It was the most graceful movement Bree had ever witnessed. Her blade veered off course.

Xulthos lifted his bladed tail high into the air, as if he were a scorpion readying his stinger. Bree wanted nothing more than to just watch. It was beautiful. Hypnotic.

No!

Bree threw herself to the wet, stinking ground and came up in a roll just as Xulthos' tail tore into the earth beside her. She slashed upwards with Tempest and missed again.

What was wrong with her? She rolled backwards a few paces, regained her feet and eyed Xulthos warily.

Another sickly ray leapt from Kelesteir's finger and struck Xulthos and he shrunk in on himself a bit more. He turned gracefully - it was a thing of utter, hideous beauty. The way the torchlight made his form seem to shimmer and -

That was it. The light. It reflected off of its carapace in strange, glittering, distracting ripples, making his form waver. But what could she do about that? She couldn't douse the torch! Kelesteir might manage to continue the fight in the dark but Bree most certainly could not! She would just have to focus. Ignore it.

Yes. She could do it.

Xulthos and Kelestair were across the room. Kelestair didn't seem badly wounded but his clothing was torn, he bled from both his arms and bore a nasty looking bruise on his face. Xulthos loomed over him and snapped his claws.

Kelestair twisted himself to the side, in between the claws. "Bree!"

She found herself simply standing there, watching as Kelestair was attacked. She shook her head. Ignore it!

Easier said than done.

Kelestair placed his hand upon Xulthos' face and muttered something. A red pulse of light burst from his hand and Xulthos shrieked. The cuts upon Kelestair's arms knitted themselves back together.

Xulthos reared back and plunged his tail into Kelestair's leg. He screamed in agony. Xulthos flicked his tail and sent Kelestair flying across the room. He smashed into the wall and fell to the floor in a heap.

Bree caught herself _watching_ again, instead of _acting_ and shook her head.

No! NO! Kelestair needed her!

Bree grit her teeth and charged forward just as Xulthos turned on Kelestair. She swung her sword three times, missing repeatedly. Xulthos snapped at her with his claws but Bree dove to the side and slashed up with her blade. Tempest bit deeply this time, slicing through Xulthos' carapace with ease.

Bree smiled. She had hit him!

A sickly beam hit Xulthos, followed by another. It withered and roared then snapped at Bree again with its claws. She blocked one of the blows with her buckler then parried the other with her scimitar. Her muscles screamed from the force of his blows.

This was his strength after being weakened by Kelestair's magic? Froth and foam, this fiend was strong!

Bree sliced at him sideways, but Xulthos was ready for her. He snapped his claws at her as she raised her blade, tearing a deep gash across her abdomen. Blood gushed from the wound. She screamed.

Xulthos snapped at her again.

Something knocked Bree to the side, out of the way of the claws. Kelestair? Bree's head hit the floor with a crack. Darkness overtook her. Something brushed against her face. Something soft. A feather?

The floor was hard beneath her back. She tasted something metallic. Something familiar. Blood? Was it her own? She couldn't remember.

She heard the sounds of battle around her. Snapping claws. Rending flesh. She shivered. She was cold. So cold. And wet. Where was she?

Someone called her name. A bird squawked loudly in her ear.

Bree tore her eyes open. Husk loomed over her and flapped his wings. Bree moved, but a pain tore through her. A warm, fluid soaked her chest and abdomen. She swooned.

Blood. So much blood.

She was going to die.

No! NO!

Bree pressed her hands to her belly. Oh, gods! It was torn right open! She closed her eyes and prayed.

Sensations overtook her. She was dancing. Singing. Drinking. Laughing. She couldn't control it. She lost herself.

A man shook his head at her. "No." His voice was sweet and soothing. Like honey. "Not yet."

He seemed so familiar. Did she know him?

"Not yet," he repeated.

Bree frowned. Why was he sending her away? She didn't want to go!

She came back to herself with a start.

Power flowed through her and she forced it into her stomache. The bleeding stopped. Her wounds bubbled, frothed and then closed.

Husk squawked loudly and nipped at her.

Bree groaned and forced herself to her feet. She was weak. So weak!

Kelestair lay upon the ground covered in wounds. Xulthos loomed over him with his tail raised to the cavern's roof. He plunged his tail down.

Kelestair didn't move.

Bree felt as if time had stopped. She ran forward, but she was slow. Too slow! She would never make it in time!

"Move, Kelestair!"

Move!

He didn't. But something else did.

A broadsword tore into Xulthos' tail causing the beast to scream. Santon roared and ripped his sword to the side, severing Xulthos' tail from his body. Xulthos retreated further into the cavern but Santon followed him, pressing the attack.

Santon? When had he come back?

Bree staggered over to Kelestair. He was badly wounded. Bree pressed her hands against his chest but then frowned. She would lose herself completely if she tried to channel her gods divinity again. Should she chance it?

No. They needed her.

She removed her hands with a curse. She tore a piece of cloth off of her blouse and tied it tightly around the deepest wound she could see. She offered him her hand and pulled him to his feet.

"My magic is spent," he said tightly. "I can cast no more spells today."

Bree handed him his mace. "That doesn't mean you can't help."

Kelestair nodded and clutched his mace. Together, they charged across the cavern and joined Santon who was swinging his sword widely. Savagely. Kelesteir beat upon Xulthos' carapace with his mace and Bree sliced Tempest along the monsters legs and sides. A slimy green ooze seeped from Xulthos' wounds.

They could do this! They could win!

Xulthos scuttled backwards and flapped his insectile wings fiercely. A wave of confusion swept through Bree. Strange thoughts and voices invaded her mind.

"Kill!" they screamed. "Bite! Tear! Bleed!"

"Get out of my head!"

The voices retreated.

"Kill them!" Xulthos roared.

Santon swung his broadsword at Xulthos but missed completely and struck Kelestair instead.

His eyes were blank voids. "Yes, master," he muttered.

No! Santon hadn't missed. He had aimed for Kelestair.

Kelestair staggered backwards with Husk at his side. Bree slashed at Xulthos again and Tempest sliced his side open.

"Kill _her_!" Xulthos clarified.

Santon swung his sword at her. Bree threw herself backwards. The blade missed her by a hairsbreadth but she had no time to rejoice. She knew how Santon fought. He would press the attack relentlessly until she faltered or turned the tables on him.

Santon thrusted at her and this time she sidestepped. He swung again, and again.

Bree was tired and wounded. She could not outlast Santon. She had to fight back. But could she?

Santon swung his blade sideways.

Bree ducked and raised her buckler above her head. As his blade passed over her she pushed up as hard as she could, knocking his blade up with her shield and setting him off balance. She slashed at him with Tempest.

Santon's blade would be of no use to him. He couldn't block. He couldn't parry. He couldn't dodge. He was defenseless.

She stopped midswing. Tempest hovered inches away from Santon's left side.

Santon backhanded her across the face then wound up and kicked her in the stomache.

Bree coughed as the air was forced from her lungs. She fell to the ground and clutched her abdomen.

Santon kicked her again.

Xulthos loomed behind him. "Kill her!"

Santon hoisted his broadsword above his head.

Bree struggled to stand, but couldn't. She was winded and spent. Her legs were useless beneath her.

Santon's muscles tensed. He plunged his sword down.

Bree's eyes widened. This was it. Her death. She had never imagined it would be like _this_.

Santon's sword shimmered red as it caught the torchlight. Bree looked up into his eyes. They were black, pupil-less voids.

This was it.

The end.

Santon's sword veered off course, behind him and under his arm. Directly into Xulthos' face. An inhuman scream tore through the chamber.

Santon ripped his sword out with a roar and plunged it back into Xulthos' multi-faceted eyes.

* * *

No! Impossible!

Such weak willed mortals could never best Xulthos!

And yet they were.

Xulthos' eyes widened as the stupid, hulking bag of flash and bones raised its sword high over his head.

No! He would not be defeated! Not now! Not _ever_!

Xulthos gathered up his thoughts and sent them careening into the space above him. Up to the surface they soared. To Kelmarane.

He needed someone. Anyone!

Xulthos' thoughts scanned the streets but found nothing. Not a soul.

As the human's blade inched closer to his face, he roared. No!

He sent his thoughts out further. Wider! He needed something. Anything!

* * *

Santon drove his sword into Xulthos face. "Stay out of my head!" He yanked his sword out and then plunged it back in.

Xulthos' body quivered and twitched. Around them the cavern became fuzzy and then suddenly, they weren't in a cavern at all, but a large tomb just like those they had passed through before.

Bree frowned. There had never been a cavern. Only Xulthos and his tricks. Illusions and enchantments, misdirection and control. Corruption. No wonder Kelmarane had turned on itself.

Santon yelled and stabbed the monster repeatedly.

"He is gone, Santon," Kelesteir said from across the room. "He will not control you again."

Santon gritted his teeth. He roared and hurled his sword across the room. It clattered against the far wall. He threw himself to his knees, leaned back and then smashed his forehead into the ground. Another roar escaped his lips. It was savage. Desperate.

Bree stumbled over to Santon.

He breathed in great heaves. His body shuddered. "Get out..." he mumbled. "Get out. Get out!" He smashed his head into the floor once more.

She placed her hand upon his shoulder. "It's over. Xulthos is dead."

Santon's muscles loosened. His breathing slowed. He rose to his feet. Blood poured from his forehead. He wiped the blood from his head with the back of his hand and then turned to Bree and smiled. He looked at her as he always did. As if he hadn't a care in the world.

"I'm sorry." His voice was calm, but held none of the joy it usually did.

Bree looked deeper. His hands shook. His eyes were glassy and narrowed. Haunted. Santon was a broken man.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated.

Bree patted his back. "It's alright. It's over now."

It's over.

But it wasn't.

* * *

High above Kelmarane, a bird as black as death with the jaws of a wolf and the antlers of a stag circled the skies. Its human-shaped shadow swept across the church and graveyard below.

Xulthos screamed and the peryton let out a soul-numbing screech. Locked within his feathered host, Xulthos seethed.

Those fools thought it was over. That they were safe. That they had won. But they were wrong! It _wasn't_ over! They _weren't_ safe! They hadn't won themselves anything but time!

Xulthos yelled in rage and cursed at the streets below, but his mouth would not obey. The peryton was incapable of speech.

This _wasn't_ over. This was _not_ the end.

Xulthos would have his revenge.


	59. Chapter 58: A New Dawn

Howl of the Carrion King

Chapter Fifty-eight

A New Dawn

Bree stumbled out of the building Father Zastoran had converted into a clinic with a groan. Two days of healing spells, potions and poultices and she still felt like she had been trampled on by a herd of camels!

"I've been waiting for you, Star Flower."

"Trevvis?" Bree eyed him up and down. He was filthy and looked like he had spent the last week in a gutter. "You haven't been waiting out here the whole time, have you?"

"They wouldn't let me in to see you."

"For days?"

Trevvis shrugged. "There's not much else to do around here."

Bree crossed her arms. A pang of jealousy coursed through her, followed by anger and then sadness. She wasn't ready to face Trevvis yet. Maybe she never would be. Still, he had waited outside for days just to see her. Maybe she should -

"Please, Star Flower, just let me speak."

Bree turned her eyes down to the cracked flagstones, but did not walk away.

"It's Brotis. She means nothing to me. She never has. I didn't kiss her that day. She kissed me and only to make you hate me. Which worked, I suppose. And I should have pushed her or, well, something, but I didn't since she's a friend, or was a friend, and you don't hurt your friends. And Yesper is a thing of the past. I know I shouldn't have lied about it but I didn't want to lose you and... Ah, gods! I'm making a real mess of this, aren't I?" Trevvis let out a desperate sigh. "Look at me, while I dig myself a deeper hole, will you?"

Bree looked up at Trevvis. His eyes were rimmed in red. Cayden's curse, he'd been crying again. How long had he -

No. Wait. Bree knew that look. He hadn't been crying. He had been drinking. Really drinking. Drowning himself in it.

"You've been drunk all this time?"

Trevvis frowned. "I've waited for days to apologize to you and that's all you have to say?"

"What am I supposed to say? You're not yourself so your apology means nothing."

"Of course it means something! It means everything!"

"You're drunk. Really drunk. Long past drunk."

"I've been drunk since you left."

"That's an insult to my god, Trevvis! An abuse of the gifts he's given us!"

Trevvis laughed. "He's the Lucky _Drunk_. I don't think he minds a little over indulgence."

"This isn't a little indulgence! You're not celebrating! You're using his holy brew to drown your sorrows! How could you even think to come to me and apologize like this? It's - "

Trevvis grit his teeth. "I had a problem with drinking before I met you, Star Flower. A _big_ problem. It was you that brought me out of it. It's what Kallien meant when she said you had saved me." His shoulders slumped in defeat. He sighed. "You saved me from the drink. From the gutters. From myself. You became my world and then you left and I - "

"Don't you dare blame this on me!"

"That's not what I meant! I... You left and I had no one to blame but myself. I lost everything. I lost you. I lost my purpose. I lost my self-restraint. _Everything_. I felt like a shadow trailing behind you, drawn to your light. And once you left - _really_ left, I mean - I wasn't drinking to drown my sorrows anymore. I was drinking to drown my fear. I was so afraid you wouldn't come back - or worse - that they'd bring back just your body. Lifeless and - "

"Well, I'm back now, and I'm alive. It's time to stop."

"But you're not back. You're here, but you're not back. I want you back with _me_. Back in my arms."

"So stop drinking."

"Come back and I'll quit for good."

"Prove to me you can stop and I'll come back."

"Promise?"

"Yes. No. I..." Bree frowned. What did she even mean? Would she go back? Could she? "I care about you, Trevvis, but I need time to think. I need to... Just... Focus on healing yourself right now, okay?"

"And then?"

"Honestly? I don't even know myself. I'm all adrenaline and anger and blood and sadness and -" She laughed. "I'm a mess. I need time to think. To heal. To mourn. To decide if I want to trust you again. Just... Wait. You heal yourself and I'll heal myself and when we're both whole again we'll... Well, we'll see."

"Take as much time as you need, Star Flower. I'll be here for you when you're ready."

Would he wait? Really? It could take her months to be whole again with what she had gone through. Years, even. How could he even say that when he was drunk?

Bree looked into Trevvis' eyes and saw they were clear and certain. He knew what he was saying and he meant it. Trevvis would wait for her. As long as it took. One day things would be alright between them again. They would be okay.

Bree smiled and curled her lip. "Besides, you smell like all the drunks in Absalom threw up on you. When was the last time you bathed?"

Trevvis laughed joyously. She couldn't remember the last time she had heard something so wonderful. "You're no spring blossom yourself!"

"Hey! You came to apologize, remember? You're supposed to be nice to me."

Trevvis smiled broadly and placed his hand upon her face. "Oh, I've missed you."

Bree blushed.

Trevvis kissed her fiercely and Bree couldn't help but respond. She parted her lips and slipped her tongue into his mouth. He tasted of stale booze and vomit.

She pulled away. "Trevvis, I - "

"I know, Star Flower. I know. Just let me stay beside you while you... think. As a friend at least."

Bree raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And you think you can control yourself?"

His eyes bore into hers. She had never seen him so serious. "I would do anything for you."

Dawn broke. It was a new day. A new beginning.

Bree reached out and took his hand in her own. "We'll heal together."

His fingers closed desperately around her own. "Together, Star Flower? Truly?"

Bree smiled. "Together."


	60. A Final Note

Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed your stay in Katapesh and that you'll return when

Bree continues her adventures in:

Legacy of Fire

Book Two

The Heartless Dead

(A work in progress available under My Stories)


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